Heather McGill stepped out of her SUV and made her way across the parking lot to the school. It had been a week since the loss of the Well and it seemed the worst of it was over. People had been furious at first, of course. People had shouted at her whenever she was in sight. She had suffered a few slaps in the face. There had been calls for her to be expelled, but none of the school staff seemed to know how to handle a situation that involved actual magic, especially magic that nobody could prove was real in the first place, and in the end nothing had come of them. There was a rumor that the principal had contacted the police who had laughed at the ridiculous notion of a wishing well, but of course no one would have been in the office during such a call so there was no reason to believe there was any truth to the story.

There had been fear, too. When Belladonna explained that the Well was gone, people were doubtful, but since the effects of everyone’s wishes had suddenly vanished, and no new ones appeared, most people accepted that the strange series of events was really over.

At the door, Heather paused to adjust her now ill-fitting blouse before stepping inside. It probably hadn’t been the best choice to throw away all of her old clothes after the Well changed her body the first time, but it hardly made any difference. Nothing had ever quite fit her scrawny, twig-like, permanently slouching body.

As she reached her once again defaced locker (This time with red marker. How original), she saw the obnoxious Ryan Vandbolt talking to one of his friends.

“No, see, she made him act like that,” Ryan was saying. “Remember in the cafeteria when she listed off all the wishes she had made? That was one of them.”

“Are you sure?” his friend replied. “I don’t even remember half of them. I know she mentioned him, but she mentioned basically everyone.”

“I mean, she must have, right?” Ryan continued. “He isn’t the toughest guy, like at all, really, but he’s not, like, girly. It doesn’t make sense if she didn’t make him act like that.”

Idiots, Heather thought.

He had understandably been absent since the events in the Well. Heather wasn’t sure if he would even come back or if he’d transfer. At first, he had gone largely ignored. People were far too concerned with reassembling their own lives to worry about what had happened to him. But as excitement died down, his absence had become more and more noticeable and questions and rumors began to circulate.

Her books gathered, Heather made her way to Statistics. She was lucky, she decided, in a way. She had lost less than him. She had lost less than Belladonna, too. Everything Heather had lost could be regained, but Belladonna had to deal with the fact that she had brushed once with the supernatural world she longed to experience and likely never would again. And he, well, it was quite obvious she already possessed what he never would.

In fact, she had come out ahead, really. While the wishes themselves were undone, not all of their effects had been. Heather’s father may have lost the high-paying job she had inserted him into, but her family still had the substantial bank account, huge house, and multiple vehicles it had brought them. That was a gain no one else shared, not even the traitorous Heather S.

She smiled to herself as she settled into her desk after sweeping the thumbtacks arranged upon it onto the floor. She would be back on top soon enough. She didn’t need magic to create her perfect world. She had everything she needed.

It would be okay.

 

* * *

 

Heather Sinclair sat in the library, feeling dejected. Everyone hated her now. People she passed in the hall made sneering comments. In classes, other students threw paper balls at her when the teacher wasn't looking. No one in the cafeteria would let her anywhere near them.

Even Heather M. wouldn't talk to her. Her best friend was attempting to save face by blaming it all on her. It was a somewhat desperate strategy, given her cafeteria confession, so it was no surprise that it was thus far unsuccessful. Nevertheless, Heather S. was stuck spending her lunch in the library, munching on a bag of cookies and staring at a book about ice ages. It hardly mattered now if anyone saw her doing it.

Someone sat down across from her. For a moment she felt hope until she looked up and saw it was Belladonna. “Oh.” She turned her attention back to the page. “It's you.”

Belladonna was back to her old abrasive style. Way too much makeup, way too much hairspray, and way too much black. She had smoothly reintegrated into her old social circles as if Heather K. had never existed. She chuckled at Heather S.

“Nice one, rocky.”

“If you're expecting me to apologize, you can forget it,” said Heather. She refused to prostrate for Belladonna. Sure, she may have made some mistakes, and maybe abused her power a little, but everyone acted as if she could have opposed Heather M. at any time. No one understood how complicated doing so really was.

“I'd never expect that from you, Heather,” Belladonna said, smiling sadly. “It's how things have always been between us. We live to tear each other down, making use of whatever advantage we can to torment each other. I never imagined you’d take things so far but, well, I never imagined you’d be able to.”

Heather made a quiet hmph. Then she gave a small smile. “Remember in fifth grade when you kissed Corey and I called you Pee-Pee Breath?”

Belladonna laughed, slapping the table. “Right. Because he'd peed himself back in third grade. Shit, that was a childish name even for that age, but it stuck around for a while.”

“He turned out hot, though, didn't he?” Heather asked.

“No kidding. That goatee...” Belladonna fanned herself with a hand.

“It's different this time,” Heather admitted. “This is bigger than teasing some weirdo. We ruined lives. Everyone hates us, now.”

“You'll bounce back. The two of you always do. Pretty soon everything will be back to the way it was before, with me on top and the two of you trying and failing to take potshots,” Belladonna said with a cocky grin.

“That's easy for you to say,” Heather replied, sadly. “You're already back on top.”

Belladonna shook her head. “Some of my friends still won't talk to me. They don't seem to get that I was brainwashed. They don’t get that they were made to reject me. Or they do get it but they think I was a willing participant. But they'll come around eventually. The past is the past, you know? They’ll see me in the present, acting like myself again, and that’ll eventually seem more real to them than their memories of Heather K. It will get harder to hold on to their anger. And Heather M. will start talking to you soon, too. I know you think you need her, but you don’t. She needs you.”

Heather waved dismissively. “As if. It’s like none of this even affects her. She’s flat as a board and shorter than me again, but she’s still acting like the Queen Bee. It’s so—” Heather S. slammed her hands onto the table in anger, eliciting several stares and shushes from around the pair.

“Exactly,” Belladonna replied after a beat. “Acting. Before she was ignored. Now she’s actively hated. I guarantee you that causes her no shortage of grief.”

“It’s just — we caused lasting damage. I don't think most people will get over that.”

“I'm serious. They will,” said Belladonna. “Look at it this way. I'm talking to you, and I'm the person you hurt the most. Well, either me or Sophie.”

“It's not Sophie anymore. He's back to his old self,” said Heather.

Belladonna took a sip from her water bottle. “Doubtful. I may be talking to you right now, but out of our whole quartet, there’s only one of us I actually feel sorry for.”

Heather wasn't sure what to say in response to that. The two of them sat in silence for several moments. Belladonna took one of Heather's cookies and started nibbling on it. Finally, Heather spoke up.

“What would have happened if you’d made those last two wishes? Would chance circumstances in my future have constantly forced me and Heather together? Or would it have changed how I thought? Made me always able to forgive her and unable to give up our friendship?”

Belladonna shrugged. “I dunno.”

“That’s really messed up.”

“Yeah. Well. Pot calling the kettle and all,” Belladonna replied, setting down the half-eaten cookie.

Despite the fact that she knew she had no right to be angry, Heather felt annoyance rise. “You were going to doom me to a life of misery.”

Belladonna frowned. “Are you sure you really want Heather to forgive you? Sounds like you’re better off without her.”

Heather huffed. “The point is, at least you were happy.”

“I wasn’t even me!” Belladonna protested.

“Then, if what we did was so terrible, why try to be my friend now?”

Belladonna took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. “Sophie wouldn’t have done what either of us did. Neither would Chloe. No matter how much we hurt them. But most people aren’t like them. Most people are like us. They’re prone to being stupid and selfish. When they see someone being hurt, they take the path of least resistance and don’t help. When they’re hurt, they react impulsively instead of compassionately and lash out. But when they realize their mistakes and see the consequences of their actions, they feel guilty. And hopefully they try to be better in the future. And, I don’t know, I want to believe that they can be. That we can be. Because if I can’t forgive someone else when she acts stupid and selfish, if I can’t imagine her ever being better, then how I can ever expect to be better, myself?”

“So we need to be able to forgive each other if we ever want to forgive ourselves?” Heather asked, thoughtfully.

“Exactly. I mean, assuming we’re not setting ourselves up to be hurt again which, given the state of the Well, isn’t exactly a concern.”

“So since I can’t brainwash you again, you’re willing to look past it?”

Belladonna shrugged. “It’s a bit calculated, yes, but that’s more or less it. But...” She paused, suddenly looking nervous. “...There’s something else to it, too.”

For some reason, Heather found herself becoming anxious. Whatever was on Belladonna’s mind couldn’t be bad, but she felt a curious fear that whatever Belladonna said next would be like an earthquake in her life. “What is it?”

“It’s really fucked up. Like, seriously twisted and sick,” Belladonna said, examining the table before her. Heather had never seen her so shy outside of her time as Heather K.

“The way I was then,” Belladonna continued. “The way I felt such happiness simply from making you happy. The absolute dedication. I’d never experienced anything like that.”

Heather remained quiet as Belladonna fidgeted with her fingers.

“It felt amazing.”

Belladonna began to lean in close. Their faces were almost touching.

“Do you remember that one time Heather made us run to the corner store in my car? And that one song came on the radio while we were parked?”

Heather S.’s cheeks flushed as the memory sprang to life in her mind. “Y-yeah,” she answered. “The one with that slow guitar riff in the middle. You admitted it was one of your favorites. But you said I could never prove it to Heather.”

“Right. In other words, I didn't hate everything about that time,” Belladonna whispered. And she kissed Heather on the lips.

Heather felt her face heat up. This was the kiss of someone who she'd brainwashed. The kiss of someone who had tried to make her life miserable. The two of them had exchanged so many cruelties over the years that Heather had lost count. So why did this kiss feel so right?

It was Belladonna who pulled away first. She was breathing heavily. “I liked liking you, Heather. Maybe not everything has to go back to the way it was before.”

Belladonna stood and walked out of the library. Heather stared after her, stunned.

 

* * *

 

After school, Chloe made her way to Sophie’s house. Even though she had her mom’s phone number and could text to ask for any updates, it had become a daily ritual visiting in person. She felt as if she owed it to Sophie.

Sophie—Chloe couldn’t go back to thinking of her as “Thomas” just yet—had barely left her room in the week since the events at the Well. She hardly spoke a word, even to her parents, and refused to see any visitors. She’d only seen her girlfriend once since she fled from the Well on foot and through the forest until she got home.

Sophie’s mother greeted her at the door with a bright smile. “Hey, Chloe.”

Sophie’s depression had become a part of everyday life, it seemed. As worried as she was for her child, her mother couldn’t spend every moment fretting and worrying. Chloe had felt guilty several times over the past week for experiencing happiness while aware of Sophie’s pain. She imagined her mother must feel something similar.

“Any updates?” Chloe asked.

Sophie’s mother shook her head as she stood aside to let Chloe in. “He’s eating a little more, but he still won’t talk to anyone.”

Chloe nodded and headed for the stairs. “I’ll go check-in.”

“Wait,” her mother said. Chloe paused. “I’m sorry I keep asking this. But are you sure you don’t know anything more about...well, why this all happened?”

It had been difficult determining how much to explain to Sophie’s mother. With the wish undone she had, of course, remembered her child as a boy and become suddenly aware that she had begun treating that same child as a girl. Sophie had been in no condition to explain, so Chloe had sat down her parents and done her best to contextualize what had happened. She had explained the Well, of course, and Heather’s wish that Sophie should be given her ideal body. That had been revealed in the cafeteria, so there was no reason to keep it a secret. She had also explained Sophie’s subsequent wish to be recognized. Somehow, however, her parents hadn’t quite pieced it all together. They thought that something had gone wrong with the first wish and that the second had been made to cover it up and escape embarrassment. Hiding in her room, then, was because she was humiliated about the whole event. However, as the days dragged on, that explanation was becoming less and less believable.

Chloe guessed that Sophie’s mom, at least, was beginning to suspect the truth. She could see it in her eyes. Gone was the motherly pain of caring for a child that had been brainwashed or tricked, replaced by the worry and uncertainty that came with having a child suffering from a profound loss she didn’t fully comprehend. More than once, she’d been looking at pictures taken while Sophie had her body as Chloe arrived and asked if she’d ever seen Sophie smile quite like that before. That was the first time she reverted back to using “Sophie”. It had only happened sporadically since, however. Perhaps she didn’t want to face it until she had confirmation. But confirmation was not something Chloe could give.

“Like I said… that’s not something I should be the one to tell you.”

Sophie’s mother looked disappointed, but she nodded at Chloe to continue.

Upstairs, Chloe stopped at Sophie's door as usual.

“Hey Soph, I’m here if you want to talk.”

She paused for a few moments. No answer came.

“I’ll probably hang around for an hour or two. I brought my phone inside this time so we can play that one game if you’re up for it. You can text me if you want and I’ll be right back up.”

“Chloe?”

Chloe jumped. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Sophie’s voice. She turned to her side to see Sophie’s grandmother leaning out Lars’ bedroom door.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Come here, let’s have a chat.”

Chloe followed her into Lars’ room. Sophie’s grandmother sat down on the only chair so, with no other option, Chloe sat down on the bed.

“I was just thinking that we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other,” Sophie’s grandmother said. “You and Sophie were dating, weren’t you? How do you feel about all of this?”

She used the name Sophie, Chloe noted. “Mostly I’m just worried about her.”

“Of course you are,” Sophie’s grandmother replied, an odd certainty ringing from her voice. “But how do you feel about the choices she made? After all, she made that wish to be recognized. And you started dating after that, didn’t you?”

“Oh, she undid that wish for me,” Chloe explained. “Probably because she felt like I would understand.”

Her grandmother tilted her head and gave a soft hmm. “And do you?”

Chloe shook her head. “I just mean that she thought I would understand her wanting to become a girl. And I don’t know that I really understood that. But she knew that I wouldn’t freak out or laugh at her or anything. As for what she’s going through now...I don’t think anyone can really understand. She’s probably the only person in the world who turned into a girl and then…” Chloe’s voice cracked as her throat tightened. “And then got turned back.”

Grams folded her hands upon her lap and let out a sad sigh. “She’s all alone, then? Without even words to describe what she’s feeling.” Chloe wasn’t positive, but it felt like Sophie’s grandmother and herself weren’t exactly on even footing.

“Well there is a word for it, I mean, I think so, at least, but…” Chloe paused. “She doesn’t know it. But I guess in that sense, she’s not completely alone. Someone should probably tell her that.”

Grams smiled. “I think you’re right about that. And I think she should hear about it from the one person who she trusts most.”

Chloe leaped to her feet eagerly. She wasn’t sure if she fell into such a role for Sophie, but she was determined to try and break through regardless. “Thank you. You’re just as amazing as she says.”

 

* * *

 

Time had begun to lose meaning to Sophie. Sundown seemed to come unexpectedly fast each day, yet she had lost count of how many days had passed. It wouldn’t last forever, she knew. She would have to figure out some type of life. She couldn’t return to school, of course, with everyone knowing the truth now. The only choices were either to drop out, finish off her senior year in another school, where she could pretend to be Thomas and no one would know how broken she was, or ask her mom to homeschool her. Somehow that option felt the most miserable.

It was her family that served as the source of most of her grief. They knew who she had become, how she had acted, the way she had dressed. They knew what she had done to hide it from them. Whenever she came out of her room, she would have to have a conversation about it, and how could she even begin to explain?

As the days passed, people came to her door. Her mom had made her favorite meal, but had only succeeded in coaxing Sophie out of her room for the briefest of moments, to wolf down her food and then leave. Even then, Sophie wore her bed’s comforter wrapped around herself and over her head. Her grandmother had just stood next to the closed bedroom door and said how sorry she was for how things had turned out, and that she was there if Sophie needed to talk. Part of Sophie wanted to take up her grandmother’s offer, badly, but she couldn’t bear being seen or heard by anyone else yet--nor could she imagine that anything her grandmother could say would help. In the midst of all of the self-loathing she felt trapped in, any sense of her powers had long since slipped from her grasp. She didn’t know if they were gone forever, or were just muted. Regardless, she could no longer feel them, and felt all the more abandoned and trapped as a result.

At least… for the most part. There had been one night that Grams had stood at the door, again encouraging Sophie to talk to her. And there’d been something that Sophie felt as she spoke. Even buried under the pile of blankets on her bed, there was the slightest tingle dancing on her neck. She’d almost burst through the door to her grandmother’s arms then and there, but as her hand reached for the door handle, she caught sight of herself in her mirror.

And the sensation faded to nothingness.

And she retreated back to her bed.

Lars made the trip home, too. Understanding how his memories had been changed twice was more important than his studies. Sophie wasn’t sure who had done the explaining or what Lars had been told, but it was clear he had already gotten some sort of explanation when Sophie heard his voice through the door.

“Hey.” He began to say a name, then halted. “Listen, I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to understand why you did what you did. I keep asking myself why you didn’t just tell us the truth. I mean, why use magic to manipulate us and mess with our heads?”

He paused. “I was... angry, for a little while. I felt like you violated me, and you didn’t even care. But that question wouldn’t leave me alone.”

He inhaled sharply and continued.

“Why? You’re not an inconsiderate or an irresponsible person. You always overthink about how your actions affect others and you’re so cautious that you’re the only person I know who would do a circle check outside of driver’s ed class. So… so I realized that whatever reason you had for doing this, it must have been pretty big. You must have been really scared. About how everyone would react. About how we would react.”

There was another pause, longer this time. “But, again, why? You know you can talk to mom and dad about anything. You know you can talk to me about anything. I used to give you advice about dealing with your bullies and I know it didn’t help much, but...you came to me, you know? You talked to me. So I thought, why couldn’t you talk to me about this? And the only thing I could think of is back when I was living here, we used to watch all those adult cartoons together. Mom didn’t like you watching them, so we’d do it in my room on my computer. And a lot of them would have...certain jokes, and we’d both laugh at them. But maybe you weren’t laughing as much as me. And, I dunno, maybe it gave you the sense that you couldn’t talk to me about certain stuff. And if that’s true, I’m sorry.”

Sophie never responded to Lars’ apology. She wanted to. Every, every fiber in her wanted to. But if she did, it’d be with that voice. With this body. With everything about herself that she hated. And it was that whirlpool of self-loathing and despair that trapped her, blocked everyone else out from reaching her.

Until someone forced their way in.

“Soph,” Chloe called through the door. “I’m coming in.” Sophie looked up at the door from her bed. The lock was still turned on the handle, securing the door. What did she mean she was coming in? The question was answered for Sophie when the doorknob began to jiggle and move, and a shadow could be seen beneath the door on the hallway lights.

“Shit,” Sophie hissed. Chloe could pick locks. Sophie had almost reached the door, caught in mid-stride from her bed, when the door opened and light bathed over her.

And there stood Chloe. Her backpack slung over her shoulder and a school notebook in hand. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead. You’re behind on your classes, y’know.” She marched through the mess of Sophie’s room, the torn up clothes and scattered shoes seemingly not phasing her, and settled on Sophie’s bed where she flicked on the bedside light.

She was still in her softball uniform. That was the first thing Sophie noticed as Chloe pulled her close. “C’mon, dummy. Do you really want me to overtake you in Calculus?”

Sophie couldn’t help but respond. “You… you don’t take Calculus.” Her voice remained small, nearly at a whisper.

Chloe continued to pull her supplies from her bag, making a makeshift workstation on her lap. “Not yet!” she explained. “But I will next semester at college. And I figured you were planning on staying cooped up in here for at least that long.”

“I…” Sophie tried to interject, but Chloe left her no room to.

“Can you open up the blinds? It’s a little dark in here for me to review my notes.”

Grudgingly, Sophie opened the blinds just enough for light to peek through the window. “Happy?” she replied through a sullen tone.

“Absolutely!” Chloe happily chirped. “Now, plant that butt over here, we’ve gotta review so many chapters. I doubt we’ll be finished before midnight.”

“W-what?” Sophie shook her head. “No, Chloe, we’re not doing this.”

“Why not?” the other girl asked.

“Because!” Sophie snapped. “The magic is gone! I’m not her anymore! I’m not—!” Her voice cut out, leaving her gasping, grasping for words. Could she really say it?

The girl who had been through so much with her, seen so much, and loved her so much despite everything she’d done only smiled in return.

“You are,” Chloe spoke softly. “You are.”

Sophie fell into Chloe on the bed, her muscles weary and no longer willing to help her run. Tears poured from her eyes and fell over her cheeks where they made little water stains on her wrinkled, old t-shirt.

It was the only shirt that still fit.

“I hate them,” Sophie gasped, sobs racking her body over a continuous tempo. “I hate what they made me do.” Her voice was rising, prompting Chloe to wrap her arms around her girlfriend. She let her notebook and papers fall to the floor, uncaring for their state. They didn’t really matter, anyway.

“I know, Soph. I know.” Chloe’s hands ran up and down Sophie’s back as her girlfriend turned into her shoulder and wet tears began to pile along the shoulder of her softball uniform.

“If they’d just given me more time… I could’ve… I could’ve…” Sophie trailed off. She’d been absorbed by that very thought for over a week now. Random ideas would pop into her head about this decision or that choice that could’ve been made differently, each leading to her retaining her body. But they never stood up against what the spirits needed.

What happened had to happen. So why was she so filled with rage and anger?

Chloe was quiet for a moment while she chose her words. “Sophie, there was no other choice. I know it, and I think you do, too. And I’m so, so proud of you for having the courage to make it.”

Sophie replied only with a quiet groan. “I… you shouldn’t call me that anymore.”

Chloe gently broke their embrace and looked at Sophie with surprise. “Why would I ever call you anything else? Sophie is your name.” She ran a finger across the damp cheeks of her girlfriend, catching a stray tear as she did. “You certainly gave up a lot for those assholes. Far more than they deserved. But you never gave up your name. You’re still Sophie. At least,” Chloe’s breath hitched. She’d played this out in her head before walking in, and this was the most important part. Butterflies swirled in her chest as she continued. “At least if you want to be.”

Sophie looked up, her eyes piercing into her girlfriend’s, causing no small amount of elation to skyrocket in Chloe’s heart. Those eyes had never changed, despite everything.

“What do you mean?”

A wide, warm smile found its way across Chloe’s face. She gently placed her index finger on Sophie’s nose. “Well, to me at least, I still see my girlfriend here.” Her finger moved to Sophie’s forehead.

“Here.”

Tapped both of her cheeks. “Here.”

She placed her finger over the tops of Sophie’s closed eyes. “Here especially.”

Finally, her finger dragged down to Sophie’s lips. “I can still see my girlfriend in every feature on your face. I still see you, Sophie. And if you want, I always will.”

Sophie blinked very slowly. “I… I still don’t understand.”

A giggle bubbled to life in Chloe’s chest. “Just because you had your magic body taken away doesn’t mean that you can’t still be a girl, Soph. You’ve heard of transgender people, yeah?”

Sophie’s eyes darted towards the bed. “Er, yeah, I mean, I don’t know any in person, but I’ve seen them on TV.”

“Real ones?” Chloe asked. “Or just bad caricatures of what people think trans people are like?”

“Sometimes real ones. On the daytime TV shows my mom watches. I’ve seen a couple online. They always look—” She paused. “I wouldn’t be happy like that.”

“Like what?” Chloe asked.

“I wouldn’t be…” Be what? Be a real girl? She knew that wasn’t right to say about trans people, but it was how it felt when it came to herself. “I wouldn’t be pretty. I’m too tall. My shoulders are too broad.”

Chloe let out a snicker despite herself. “Okay, I know for a fact that you like tall girls.”

Sophie frowned. “That’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Chloe asked. “Think about the trans women you’ve seen. Do any of them really have any features you wouldn’t see on a cis woman? Would you even know they were trans if you weren’t looking at them and trying to see a man? Maybe the reason you don’t think girls like that are pretty is because you’ve been taught that being trans is inherently unattractive. I think many of those girls are pretty. I think you are pretty.”

Sophie considered this. Chloe’s tone wasn’t scolding or judgmental. Instead, it was piteous. She felt genuine sadness that Sophie couldn’t see the beauty she apparently saw.

“Maybe that’s true for you, but it’s not for everyone else. At best, they’d just be humoring me. They might play along and say I’m a girl, but they wouldn’t really believe it.”

Chloe snorted. “I want to say screw them but, actually, let’s talk about that. What do you think you would need to change for people to see you as a girl?”

Sophie touched her scratchy chin. “I have facial hair. It shows through even when I shave it.”

“You can get laser hair removal,” Chloe said matter-of-factly. “Your parents can afford it and I think they’d agree to just about anything to get you out of your room at this point.”

“A laser isn’t going to fix my shoulders or my height or my jawline.”

Chloe held up a hand. “Hold on. Your jawline isn’t really something that needs fixing. It’s only a little more defined than mine. Besides, if it’s really that uncomfortable for you, that’s super fixable.”

“With surgery, maybe. I know trans women have to get about a million different surgeries.”

Chloe smiled and placed a hand on Sophie’s cheek. “You don’t need surgery for that. You know trans women usually take estrogen, too, right?”

“Yeah, but I thought that was for—” Sophie halted. She wasn’t sure what that was for.

“Hormones do most of the work when it comes to transitioning. It softens the skin, redistributes fat—here let me show you.”

Chloe pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo of a smiling man with a beard wearing a baseball uniform. “You remember the old softball captain, right? This is what he looks like now, and he’s only had one surgery, a mastectomy. It’s okay if I tell you this, by the way, he’s pretty open about it. Of course, that’s testosterone. When it comes to estrogen...let me find a transition timeline.” Chloe pulled up Chirpr on her phone and, with the help of a few search terms, found several posts that displayed exactly the content she was looking for. Other trans women who’d transitioned, quite a few older than Sophie herself, but each with pictures of where they started their journeys, and the most up-to-date selfie they’d taken for comparison. Chloe was only able to scroll through three or four of the posts before Sophie‘s fingers wove beneath her own and gingerly took the phone to scroll for herself.

Hours passed as the two cuddled on Sophie’s bed, any pretense of studying long-since discarded. Instead, Sophie’s eyes had become perpetually misty and she found herself repeatedly biting at her lip and muttering beneath her breath. There were ways to get rid of her facial hair. There were ways to train her voice. There were ways to apply makeup to minimize the masculine parts of her face that she didn’t like, and even then, that might’ve only been a temporary-stop-gap before she could get hormone therapy. 

She didn’t need magic to be herself. There were so many other people who were just like her, and had gone through the same path ahead and had come out the other side just as happy as she had been before.

Sophie wasn’t alone, she realized as she gripped Chloe’s hand. Everything she needed was already right here.

Later that night, after much back and forth from Chloe and herself, the two quietly made their way downstairs to the gathered family as they watched whichever sports channel Lars and Sophie’s dad had tuned into. Sophie’s hand shook within Chloe’s fingers, but the assured smile of the softball captain beside her quelled any and all desires to run and bolt her door once more.

She could do this. She wanted to do this.

The young witch, clad in a light blue zip-up jacket and pair of dark fleece sweat pants they’d found deep within Sophie’s closet (thankfully Heather M. relaxed her monopoly on Sophie’s purchases after a few weeks of microscopic oversight), cleared her throat. Lars and Sophie’s dad turned from their conversation towards her. Mom looked up from her magazine, and Grams paused cross-stitching her weirdly detailed rendition of a forest grove including what Sophie immediately recognized as spirits playing in the background.

“Guys…” Sophie began, her voice still quiet and uneven, but nonetheless determined and assured. They all stared back, each of their eyes on her. She took a deep breath, and held Chloe’s hand even more tightly.

“I’m Sophie.”

 

* * *

 

The late crispy red and orange dredges of fall in Twisted Pines faded into the cold, white embrace of winter which itself blossomed into a flourish of greening grass, newborn plants, and the chirp-filled air of birds as they soared through the breeze and danced on the branches of trees newly readorned with leaves of a new season, and a fresh start.

And Heather McGill absolutely couldn’t stand any of it. It was only 11:32 AM, minutes since extracting herself from the back of Heather S.’s yellow Fusion and still with a bit of time to go before the ceremony, and still she couldn’t yet smooth the creases out of her burgundy dress. The tag had been snipped off the back, but she was nearly certain her mother had purchased it from the junior section of some ratty outlet store at the mall instead of Heather’s usual boutiques. Her lip quivered ever upward as the insistence of her mother’s nagging voice flashed through her mind. She seriously expected Heather M. to reduce herself to rags and filth merely because she’d maxed out a few measly credit cards?

The gall of it all.

“Would you stop messing with the dress already?” Heather S. said, patting her smaller friend on the shoulder. “It’s supposed to have creases on that part.”

“It’d have less if I didn’t have to sit in the back seat,” the shorter girl snarled. “Why did I have to sit in the back, anyways?”

“Because,” Belladonna leaned in to plant a soft kiss on Heather S.’s cheek, eliciting a blush from her and a gag from their third-wheel. “I get shotgun.”

“We picked you up!” Heather M. cried. “What about the ten minute drive before that?”

Belladonna laughed and shook her head. “Well, you know how sitting in my seat worked out for you last time, don’t you pipsqueak?”

Heather M.’s expression turned stoney and severe. “You stole the first kiss I’ve had in months, you bitch.”

“Don’t forget about me!” Heather S. chimed in. “Passenger seat is the certified smooch zone. You know that, Heather.”

Heather M. could only groan as they entered the cafeteria where other teachers and students were assembled. “God, I hate my life.”

Heather S. turned her head to the side, shooting Heather M. a quizzical look. “Then why did you come to me on your knees, begging to be friends again?”

“Desperation,” Heather M. replied.

“‘Please!’” Heather S. mimicked, her hands clasped desperately over her chest. “‘I’m sorry! I’m so, so, so sorry!’”

“Extraordinarily intense desperation,” Heather M. clarified.

“Naw,” Belladonna began to step away from the other two. “I think you were lonely and wanted your friend back, pipsqueak.”

Heather S. squealed and enveloped Heather M. in a hug which took her from the ground into the air. “And now you have me!”

“Yay,” Heather M. sighed. 

“I think she likes you better this size,” Belladonna said with a grin.

At long last, Heather S. set her down. “Tease me all you like,” Heather M. replied. “I know your latest embarrassing secret.”

Belladonna’s grin vanished as her eyes widened in horror. “What secret?” she asked unconvincingly.

Heather M. brought out her most mischievous tone. “Remember last Saturday when we met at Belladonna’s house? I wasn’t late after all. I just needed to step outside and laugh for a while after I heard what Heather calls you when you’re alone.”

“I was only teasing her,” Heather S. responded, way too quickly.

“Were you?” Heather M. smirked. “That doesn’t explain what I saw when I took a peek in Belladonna’s closet.”

“That’s just—” Belladonna stammered.

“Kept an awful lot of those clothes, didn’t you? And you were so adamant that you’d thrown them all away.”

Heather M. could see Belladonna’s face redden beneath her makeup. “I’ve been busy.”

Heather M. grinned triumphantly. “Is that the truth? Or did we awaken something in you?”

Belladonna stammered some more, trying to come up with a response. Heather S., too, was silent. Now was time for the killing blow. “Of course, I don’t have to tell everyone at school about it as long as you two behave yourselves,” would be her next line.

Except Belladonna decided it was her turn to lift the smaller girl from the ground, preventing Heather from uttering anything more than a stifled gasp as she was placed over Belladonna's shoulder.

"H-hey!" Heather M. shouted as her hands held her dress in place. "Put me down!"

"Hmmm..." Belladonna made a show of stroking her chin as the three made their way through the bustling room. "Nope. Not until you apologize," Belladonna decided. "I know your manipulation when I see it."

"Wha- Heather!" Heather M. growled at Heather S. "Do something about your out-of-control girlfriend!"

Belladonna and Heather S. looked at each other for a brief moment before the two burst into a fit of giggles. "No, I agree with her. No more ground privileges until you apologize, Heather."

Heather M. groaned and buried her face into Belladonna's back. She wasn't even trying to manipulate them; this was supposed to be simple teasing!

After all, their teasing wasn't so bad. Heather hated it, of course, and it was far below her dignity. But it wasn’t so bad.

And things had been easy these last couple of months. It wasn’t the life she wanted or deserved, but she had to admit it was significantly less stressful.

That wasn’t so bad, either. If another wishing well came around, well, she wouldn't make any promises. But until then?

"Sorry."

Heather M. found herself placed back on the ground just as they got in line for their caps and gowns.

"It's okay." Heather S. smiled at her friend, no longer as unrepentant as she once was. And for her, that was a good start.

“I forgive you. Now come on, we’ll be late.”

Heather M. allowed a small, nearly hidden smile to flash across her face as she followed her friends.

Not a bad place to be at all.

 

* * *

 

Chloe Gutierrez closed the door of her green trans am and began to make her way across the parking lot in a light jog. Her mom wouldn’t stop fussing with her hair until at least half-past-eleven, leaving her running incredibly late. Sophie had said she didn’t mind in her text, though she was acutely aware of how nervous her girlfriend probably was today, and Chloe wanted to make sure she was there to help if anything came up. She checked herself in the reflection bouncing from the school’s entrance doors. Her navy jacket and trousers looked amazing paired with her pearl-white shirt and nude heels.

Sophie didn’t come out and say it, but Chloe was certain she’d want to look shorter in the pictures. Thus, the sides of her feet crying out in pain from the four inch heels would need to remain ignored for a while yet. At least when she got home she could soak them properly.

Chloe entered the school and made her way through the mostly empty hallways. None of the parents were on this side of the school, they’d all be gathered on the other side in the gymnasium where the bleachers had been pulled out. Several teachers and faculty members passed by her on the way to the cafeteria, a few of whom Chloe recalled had particular difficulty with the readjustment to normal after everything with the Well had been settled.

“Little late, don’t you think, Chloe?” Ms. Caliers called to as the former softball captain passed by. She was dressed in what Chloe considered dress casual, normal wear for teachers on days like today. A bit more dressed up than usual, but still nothing too stiff or formal. What surprised Chloe was the presence of the woman next to her, Ms. Darwin. The student-teacher had never resumed her position at the school, so Chloe wasn’t entirely sure what had come of her.

“Oh, hey, Ms. Darwin,” Chloe said, waving to her. “Nice to see you back!”

The woman laughed and waved Chloe off. “Please, Chloe. It’s just Maddilyn, now.”

The tapping of Chloe’s shoes ceased as she slowed to a stop. “Haven’t heard anything from you since everything to do with, er...” Chloe trailed off, unsure how exactly to address the fact that the woman had spent the better part of three months as approximately one-tenth of her usual age. Or was it just a perception filter kind of thing? Either way, it was a whole bag of awkwardness that Chloe had decided to keep her distance from.

The woman let loose a long sigh. “Yeah, it sort of sucked,” Maddilyn said before letting loose a deluge of high-pitched laughter. “Sorry,” she wheezed. “Bad pun.” The other two women blinked as a short beat passed before joining in on the joke. Chloe shared a few more words with the two before departing, learning in the process that Maddilyn had recently been hired as a Kindergarten teacher. Apparently the whole experience was very eye-opening, at least as far as she saw it.

As she drew closer to the cafeteria, she reflected on all the people who’d been affected by the Heathers’ tampering with reality. Friends she’d entirely forgotten about who’d “transferred to different schools” or had entirely new personal histories written for them. Even teachers who had their entire personality overwritten; it’d been some pretty gruesome stuff. Weirdly though, like childbirth or a traumatic injury, people seemed to move on quicker than Chloe would’ve expected them to. Many, particularly those who hadn’t experienced magic directly, dismissed the whole episode as just a bit of exaggeration and mind games on the part of the Heathers. After all, it’s not like wishing wells were real. However, even those who had been directly affected by a wish soon returned to normal life--sometimes a little wiser, like Maddilyn, or just perplexed at the odd series of events that they couldn’t quite ever account for.  Perhaps it was an effect of the magic itself, or perhaps just that people didn’t tend to give much thought to the memories that were so out of place with other parts of their life. Sophie had discovered a flyer for a support group a couple of months back, but the both of them had decided to keep their distance considering their involvement. 

In any case, a usual rhythm returned, and Twisted Pines regained its mundae air by the beginning of spring. She was able to reconnect with dear friends, and form new bonds over their shared experiences.

She entered the cafeteria and passed the Heathers and Belladonna who were screwing around at the side of the room, something they’d been doing a lot of recently. And in the middle of the room, engaged in a lively conversation with Vice-Principal Miller while dressed in a lovely royal blue skater dress and low rise black heels, was the girl who never failed to send Chloe’s heart into a frenzy.

Yeah, things had become more mundane than when the Well was active, but they were really only as mundane as Sophie Swan let them be.

 

* * *

 

Sophie patted at the sides of her dress as she stood before her bedroom mirror. With more than an hour to spare before the graduation ceremony at noon, she felt she was doing pretty well on time. The dress wasn’t an exact match to Chloe’s suit, but it was close enough. Her eyes naturally rose to her shoulders, both left bare by the thin straps of the garment. Did they look too big? Too angled? Her face scrunched as more and more intrusive thoughts clouded her mind.

What if everyone really was humoring her? She hoped not; the irony alone would be fatal, after everything she’d done.

A knock on the bedroom’s door frame shook her from her trance. She tore her eyes from the mirror, finding her mom leaning against the wall with a quietly elated smile crossing between her cheeks.

“Wow.” Sophie's mom walked up to her daughter, herself dressed in a white maxi dress with lace at the hem. She crossed her arms over Sophie’s shoulders and collarbone. Sophie was a few inches taller than her mother, but the wedge sandals the latter was wearing helped even them out.

“You know, it might be a bit narcissistic to say so,” she said, her chin rested on her exposed forearm. “But it’s pretty clear that I’m super good at giving birth to beautiful people. Blessed, perhaps.”

A blush flashed across Sophie’s cheeks as she rolled her eyes. “Mom…” she groaned.

“Well, maybe it’s an iterative thing,” Mom added. “Lars certainly didn’t get that beautiful hair!” Her mother smiled as she swept back a strand of Sophie’s shiny, curly hair.

“He wouldn’t know how to take care of it, anyway,” Sophie said. In truth, she’d only recently began to feel confident about her hair again. Curly hair grew very slowly, she had unfortunately discovered. Hers had only just reached her jaw after five months of growth and, subsequently, a point where she could start styling it properly again. “Anything that’s not in an all-in-one bottle is ‘too much work’.”

Sophie’s mother laughed and took a seat on her bed. “I did say iterative, didn’t I?” She paused for a moment as she looked over Sophie’s outfit. “Oh, I just love this. You look so amazing, sweetie. Doesn’t hurt that it goes very well with your eyes.”

“It better!” Sophie laughed nervously. “It took forever to decide between this one and the sea-foam green a-line one. And that one at least had sleeves, short as they were.”

“I think this is the better choice, honestly,” her mother decided. “Plus, Chloe looks better in blue, too. Good match for you both.” At her mother’s insistence, Sophie took a seat next to her on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

That was a loaded question, wasn’t it? Sophie sighed as her mind involuntarily flashed between the numerous different discomforts she’d been voluntarily subjected to recently. There were the repeated blood draws from the Planned Parenthood over in Minneapolis for hormone stuff. The early morning jogs and yoga sessions she’d been doing with her mom and grandmother in the wee hours before school started, which itself was absolutely its own gauntlet. And, of course, the horrid laser hair removal appointments she never failed to anticipate with a sense of creeping dread.

The upper lip was the worst.

In all honesty, she was more tired than she could remember ever being. But, at the same time, she had more purpose than she could remember having, and could see more of her future than she ever imagined she’d be able to perceive.

“Nervous…” Sophie said, her finger playing with the skirt of her dress. “But excited, too. They’re going to say my name when they call me up, right?”

“Vice-Principal Miller said she’d make sure of it, sweetie.” Sophie’s mother ran her hand reassuringly over her daughter’s knee. “The diploma too.”

“Okay,” Sophie said between breaths. “And the robe and the walk?”

Her mother’s smile flickered for just a moment as Sophie’s anxiety seemed to spark fleeting concern with her. “Red, and with the other girls just like we talked about. I know things have been hard getting everything set up at school—”

“Like the locker rooms?” Sophie scoffed.

“Yes,” her mother nodded sadly. “But what matters is that today, your last day in that building, they’re going all out. We’re getting what you deserve, Sophia.”

That was true, Sophie decided. This was also the last day she’d see a lot of her friends, too. She swung her feet from the bed onto the floor and stood up. She wasn’t going to waste the day on worries and anxieties. After slipping her feet into two black one-inch pumps she took a final appraisal of her outfit in the mirror. She looked great in that dress, but there was still something missing. She was still trying to put her finger on it when her dad poked his head into the room.

“Girls? Doesn’t this thing start at noon?” he said, looking at his watch. He was dressed in a simple white polo and tan khakis.

“Yeah…” Sophie replied sullenly as she shifted positions in the mirror. “Just trying to figure out what I’m missing.” From the corner of her eye, she caught her mother nodding her head towards Sophie in the mirror while staring at her father.

“Ah — you look great, Soph!” he said through a broad smile.

Sophie’s mother sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Anthony, just give her the necklace.” Sophie’s dad faltered before chuckling.

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so!” he said while reaching into his pocket. Clutched in his hand as he pulled it free was a small black felt box. With a flick of his fingers, he pulled the lid apart and displayed the contents to Sophie as her mother joined them. “Your mom wanted to wait until after graduation, originally.”

Her mom pecked at his shoulder with a light smack. “But it’d look so good with her dress! How could I wait?” Sophie pulled the necklace, a gold heart on a shining golden chain, free from the box so she could inspect it further. A light gasp blossomed in her throat as her eyes fell upon the engraving in the center of the heart.

Sophia

She looked at both of her parents with wet, watery eyes. “T-thank you,” she said as she wrapped her arms around them. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Sophie ignored the chaos surrounding her in the cafeteria as Vice-Principal Miller handed her the red polyester cap and robes she’d be wearing over her dress in short order.

“Now you’re behind Ronnie Sawyer,” Mrs. Miller instructed, pointing to a girl near the end of the red line where the other girls were beginning to gather.

“And my name,” Sophie reiterated, seeking to ensure no embarrassing mishaps while on stage.

“I’ll be doing the announcing, so nothing to worry about, Sophia.” Mrs. Miller smiled. She gently pushed the cap and gown into Sophie’s arms and sent her on her way. “Now get to your spot; we’re heading out in 15 minutes and I’ve still gotta corral the other students.”

Sophie nodded and began to pull her robe around her dress and situated her cap on her head as she stepped into line with the others.

While fiddling with her new necklace, unreasonably paranoid it would somehow get twisted up the wrong way, she felt the familiar tingles on the back of her neck. Without thinking, she shot her left arm outward, hand open, and felt the cool, slow landing of a quarter. Looking up, she saw one Chloe Gutierrez grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“You never get tired of that, do you?” she asked her girlfriend.

“Nope!”

Chloe wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Speaking of, you still seeing more of those spirits?”

Sophie nodded. “All the time. Any time I go into the woods I’m pretty much guaranteed to find at least one. And I’m seeing them in town at least a few times a week. Grandma’s been teaching me their names.”

Unfolding her own robes, Chloe started pulling them over her suit next to Sophie. “And we’re still thinking that’s a good thing, right? They’re not going to rob banks or anything?”

Sophie laughed. “No, nothing like that. Grams says it means the area is healing. Soon enough they’ll be everywhere, at least as far as she tells it. Don’t tell Belladonna, though. I mean, it’s been a while since she last cornered me to ask me questions about them, but…”

“...It’s better to let her stay distracted with her friends and girlfriend,” Chloe finished. “Speaking of, are there going to be more spirits at UMN?”

Sophie shrugged as they watched Mrs. Miller begin to chew out the Heathers for not being in line. “I dunno. Grams says they’re everywhere she’s ever been, so I guess I’ll find out.”

“Well,” Chloe took both of Sophie’s hands in hers, her thumbs running overtop of Sophie’s manicured fingers. “Just bring them with you to my games. Having some ‘spirits in the outfield’ action would be much-appreciated now that I’m gonna be playing with the Gophers.”

Sophie snorted. “It’s ‘Angels’ in the outfield, Chloe.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” Chloe said. She tapped a finger on Sophie’s nose. “You’re supposed to be in the stands, not the outfield.”

A fierce blush overtook Sophie’s cheeks as she shook her head. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah,” Chloe agreed. “Too bad you’re the one who’s dating me.”

Her brow furrowed above a resistant smile, Sophie leaned towards her girlfriend and kissed her. “Sure am.”

Mrs. Miller began to call everyone together as she tried to straighten up the lines of students. Boys were to the left, all clad in blue. Sophie, Chloe, the two Heather’s and one Belladonna remained to the right, all five of them wearing bright red. Sophie waved to Natalie who was far up front. Due to everything that had happened, the smaller girl had handily won the honor of giving a valedictorian speech once closely contested between herself and Sophie.

Before leaving for her own spot in line, Chloe ran her hand along Sophie’s shoulder. “Ready?” she asked.

Sophie smiled at the calming eyes of her girlfriend. She was. More than she ever had been before, beyond a shadow of a doubt. She was Sophie Swan. And she always would be.

Though Sophie Gutierrez did have a nice ring to it.