It was nine o’clock at night before Jackson finally collapsed onto her bed and screamed into her pillow. At least it was the final day. Tomorrow, for better or for worse, everything changed for good.

“And I’ll finally start using my new name,” she thought. Jackson had picked it out months ago, but hadn’t gotten up the courage to tell anybody. After a while, it sort of became her little secret.

She pulled herself away from her pillow and sat up. Her room was her sanctuary.  Jackson was allowed to feel safe here. Green walls, her favorite color, covered in anime posters. Her gaming laptop was sitting on the desk, too far out of reach at the moment. Next to the mini-fridge was a guitar she’d never learned how to play.

“Maybe that’ll change too,” she thought, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Most of her friend group was already in the call when she joined.

“Jackson!” someone cried.

“There you are, girl!”

“Where have you been?”

Jackson tried to pitch her voice up as she replied, “I was with my parents.”

“Oh, that sucks.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

She shrugged and asked, “What were you guys talking about?”

“That girl Charlie? Do you remember her?”

“No?”

“Wannabe reporter. Apparently she started writing for a news website or something.”

“Bullshit. Isn’t she, like, fifteen?”

“I know!”

“Some kind of special program the website runs for high school students,” someone explained.

Jackson grunted, then rolled over onto her stomach.

“I’m not looking forward to school starting again,” someone said.

“Why’s that?”

“Lucas has been hitting on me all summer. I don’t want to actually have to face him and decide whether or not I really like him.”

“Lucas? Isn’t he that crazy pastor’s son?”

“Don’t remind me. As if it wasn’t hard enough to figure out my feelings for him.”

Another person asked, “Are you ready for school to start, Jackie?”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname they’d given her. But there was a bubbly feeling in her stomach. Jackson hadn’t told anybody about her plan. It was so close to fruition.

“I don’t want to spoil anything,” she said. “But I’ve got something special planned before school starts.”

“I thought your parents wouldn’t allow you to start transitioning yet.”

“Forget about them,” she said, grinning. “This isn’t about them at all. I’ve got something big planned. And it’s going to fix everything.”

“The Hell could you be talking about?”

“I’m not telling anyone until it’s done,” she insisted.

“Come on!”

“You brought it up!” someone protested.

“Now come on. If she doesn’t want to spoil the surprise, don’t make her.”

Jackson did her best approximation of a giggle.

“Actually,” she said, glancing at her alarm clock, “I really need to wake up early tomorrow. It’s going to take pretty much all day. Sorry to just show up and ditch.”

“Not a problem, sis.”

“Get some rest.”

“You’d better let us know tomorrow what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you can’t just bait us like that and not deliver.”

Jackson chuckled and replied, “I promise I will, as soon as it’s over. You’re going to be blown away, I promise.”

“We’d better.”

Jackson ducked out of the call and dropped her phone on the side table next to her bed. Then she stretched and got up in order to slip off her jeans. Finally, she turned off the lights and curled up beneath the covers. Her mind was buzzing with excitement about the next day, but eventually she managed to drift off.

When the phone’s alarm went off, Jackson instinctively reached over to turn it off and give herself ten, fifteen, thirty more minutes of rest. It took a few moments for her to remember what day it was and why it was special enough to warrant an alarm. As soon as she did, though, Jackson sprang out of bed.

“What do I wear?” she asked herself, searching through her dresser, “Does it matter? Oh, it should probably be something disposable. I won’t be wearing it back.”

She settled on an old shirt and distressed pair of jeans and jumped into the shower. Jackson tried not to pay too much attention to the way her body felt under the running water. After today, everything would be fixed.

Unfortunately, when Jackson got downstairs, both of her parents were in the kitchen.

“Breakfast, son?” her father asked from the stove.

She scowled. Jackson wanted to turn him down, but she wasn’t going to get another chance to eat until dinner. So she nodded and took a seat at the table. All she did was play with her phone until her father placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her.

“I’m going to Eric’s house today,” she lied. “I’ll probably be gone until dinnertime.”

“Alright, sweetie,” her mother replied.

“You ready for school?” her father asked, sitting down next to her.

Jackson nodded and quickly started stuffing her face. Hopefully the conversation would be over quickly and she could get out of there. She could work on repairing her relationship with her parents tonight, after it was over.

She drove her car right past her friend Eric’s neighborhood and kept going. Jackson brought the car to a stop outside the local park and took a moment to collect her nerves. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard she clutched the steering wheel.

“You can do this, girl,” she said, forcing herself to open the door and step out.

She found the bench that they had agreed upon and sat down. Jackson slouched and started tapping her foot impatiently. Just to be safe, she’d gotten there a little early, but now her anxiety had caught up with her.

Jackson had started biting her nails when it happened. The ground in front of her started to glow as red lines started tracing themselves over the sidewalk. When they were done, Jackson was sitting in front of a glowing spell circle. She gulped.

“Here we go,” she said, standing up cautiously on trembling knees.

With a deep breath, Jackson stepped forward until she was completely within the spell circle. Then the air around her began to distort and warp and all the colors started to bleed. Jackson’s breath caught in her throat as the world started to spin around her.

And then it was over and she was somewhere else. It was a large room with stone walls and a high ceiling, illuminated by what looked to be crystalline chandeliers. Bookshelves lined the walls, packed to the brim. One wall was a large window that overlooked an endless forest, with mountains in the distance taller than any Jackson had ever seen in person before.

“Good. You made it.”

Jackson turned around to see a young Arab woman standing in long orange robes and her hands folded behind her back. The stranger waved one hand and the spell circle disappeared underneath Jackson. Jackson was stuck, wherever she was, with a stranger.

“You’re her?” she asked.

The stranger nodded, confirming, “I’m the renegade witch Ilham.”

Jackson breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’ve got a lot to go over,” Ilham said, gesturing to a table and chair set that Jackson wasn’t sure had been there a moment ago, “Please sit down.”

Jackson did so, glad to be off her trembling knees for a moment. Ilham followed suit. For a moment, the witch just stared at Jackson.

Ilham continued, “Now, Miss…?”

“Jackson is fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Jackson nodded, insisting, “It’ll do for now. Until the spell is complete.”

“Alright. We already talked about all of this, but it’s pertinent to review.” The witch pulled a long sheet of paper from the folds of her robes. “The magical ceremony you’re asking for will break down your current body and rebuild it magically into what you consider to be your ideal body image.”

“Right.” Jackson nodded.

“Just so we’re clear: you’re after a cisnormative female body?”

“Is that a problem?”

Ilham shrugged, replying, “You’ve got options. Pick whatever will make you happiest, but don’t limit yourself based on what other people have led you to believe is right.”

“I think I know what I want,” Jackson insisted.

“Very well.”

Ilham set the piece of paper down on the table and reached inside her robes again. This time she pulled out a scroll and laid it out on the table.

“Here’s the contract you’ll sign. But I have to warn you: this is highly experimental magic based on your subjective whims and desires. We are working with something that is entirely unregulated. And it isn’t without dangers. I’m confident in my abilities, but there won’t be an easy fix if something goes wrong.”

“Just give me a pen,” Jackson said, holding out her hand.

Ilham plucked a pen from thin air and held it out for Jackson to take. Jackson grabbed the pen and quickly signed her legal name at the bottom of the contract. In the months that they’d been talking remotely, Ilham had gone over the dangers countless times. It wasn’t going to stop Jackson now.

“You’re very bold,” Ilham said. “Renegade magic is very frowned upon in the magical community. You’re going to have to put up with people telling you that you made a mistake for a very long time.”

“Whatever it takes to get the correct body,” Jackson replied.

“You had other options.”

“I need this!” Jackson cried, springing to her feet.

Ilham reacted to her outburst with a pleasant smile.

“Then let’s begin, shall we?” Ilham stood up. “Follow me.”

She led Jackson out a pair of wooden doors and down a stone hallway lit by gas lamps.

“Do you live in a castle?” Jackson asked.

“Something to that effect.”

“Why do you live in a castle?”

Ilham went “tut” and replied, “I have a soft spot for the aesthetic. Come on.”

She brought Jackson to a large room with a large circular recess in the stone floor. A large spell circle had already been drawn around a very small but ornate bed on the ground. Candles and bowls of incense had been placed around the circle. On a large gold pedestal sat a large open book overlooking the whole arrangement.

“I need you to lie down on that bed there. Get comfortable. It’s going to take all day.”

“Can I ask you something?” Jackson asked, sitting down on the bed.

“Go ahead.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Ilham smirked and asked, “You mean since you’re not paying anything?”

Jackson nodded.

“I live in a castle, dear,” Ilham reminded her. “I’m old enough to be your grandmother, and I have magic. I don’t need anything you could provide me. I’m a witch. I do this out of the goodness of my heart.”

Jackson nodded slowly.

“Okay, then.”

Jackson lay down on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest, breathing slowly. Her whole body was tense. Ilham walked over to the pedestal and started flipping through pages of the book.

“First I’m going to put you to sleep. You’ll sleep through the entire process, and I’ll wake you up with another spell.”

“I’m ready,” Jackson told her.

Ilham started muttering quietly under her breath. Instantly Jackson’s eyes felt heavy, and she yawned. Ilham started chanting, but it was too far away for Jackson to make out what she was saying. Jackson closed her eyes and managed to relax her body. This little bed felt surprisingly comfortable.

She was surrounded by darkness. Jackson felt like her entire body was floating in midair. There was a tingling sensation all over her. Then a gentle push and pull, like waves on a beach, started passing through her. In her mind’s eye, Jackson tried to picture the body she wanted, but it was hard to focus on anything.

Then came a pulling sensation. It was a little uncomfortable at first, then a little tight, then outright painful. Jackson tried to squirm, but she was paralyzed. She wanted to scream. It felt like she was being ripped in half.

And then it was over. The pain was gone. Jackson relaxed, unsure of what had just happened. Ilham hadn’t said anything about the process hurting. How long had Jackson been under? Minutes? Hours? Days? Every thought felt like it was moving through molasses.

“Kid? Kid, wake up.”

Jackson’s eyes fluttered, and she became aware of her body again. But she wasn’t in the same room she fell asleep in. She was lying in a four-poster bed, and Ilham was standing over her, looking nervous.

“Waz goin on?” she mumbled.

She tried to pull herself into a sitting position, but Ilham pushed her back down.

“You’re still waking up,” she said. “Take it slow. There’s something we have to talk about.”

“Did it work?” Jackson asked, a bit more coherent this time.

“It worked. But… there was a complication. Something I’ve never seen before.” Ilham furled her brow and continued, “I only want to have to explain this once. Right now, let’s just see if you can stand.”

Ilham helped Jackson to her feet and brought her to a full-length mirror. It took a moment to really process what Jackson was looking at. The girl in the mirror was a little shorter than she had been, her black hair in loose, puffy curls. Her body was lean and thin and soft. She was wearing a mid-length, strapless dress and sandals; far from the outfit Jackson had been wearing when she came in.

“This is me?” she asked, covering her mouth in surprise.

“Yes, but we’ve got someone to meet. Come on.”

“Meet? Did you bring my parents here?!”

Ilham laughed nervously.

“Hell no.”

The witch took her by the hand and led her out into the hallway. Jackson felt like she was walking on air. It had happened! She was a girl! Ilham’s spell had fixed everything! She could finally go home with her head held high. And she could finally use her new name!

Ilham led Jackson into the room she had first arrived in: the library or whatever it was. To Jackson’s surprise, there was indeed already someone in there, sitting at the table. It was another black girl, about Jackson’s own age, but wearing jeans and a hooded jacket.

And… very similar in appearance to her.

“Kid…” Ilham said, gesturing at the sitting figure, “Meet your new twin.”

“What?!” Jackson cried at the same time as the strange girl.

Ilham let go of Jackson and rubbed the back of her neck. She took a deep breath and sighed. The witch was trying very hard not to look at either of them. Jackson had to sit down; her legs were starting to tremble.

“For a while, everything was going fine,” Ilham said, “Then at one point, you started writhing and screaming. Your body wasn’t solid matter by then, it was more like a soft light. So it wasn’t a horror show, but your body did split into two and finish forming separately. I… didn’t anticipate this. I’m sorry."

Jackson wasn’t listening. She was staring at the copy of her across the table, who was watching her with the same horrified expression.

“So…” the copy began, “what now?”