"Mom, Dad... Miles... I'm... I'm..."

Sandy cringed.

"I'm transgender."

Miles's eyes shot wide and his jaw dropped. His sister? Trans!?

Sandy slowly explained, how, ever since she was little, she had felt like she was really a boy.

He felt really stupid for not seeing it. She'd been wearing her hair shorter and shorter, and it was now obvious that she'd been wearing a binder, even though her boobs were already small.

Miles also felt like he couldnt remember the last time he'd seen Sandy wearing a skirt or a dress or something.

He sat timidly curled up on the couch, as he listened to his... brother... talk.

Mom and Dad wore anxious looks, which didn't seem to set Sandy at ease. Miles felt bad, seeing Sandy's downcast look, but he knew that he probably wasn't able to hide a smilar face.

It was just... Sandy was his sister. She'd always been his twin, right there beside him. Replacing that image and those memories with this new... Sander... just felt downright strange.

Dad breathed deeply, and heaved out a long sigh. "This...," he said, "is going to be difficult."

Their parents didn't get angry. They in fact put their arms around Sandy/Sander. They said that they couldn't deny it, they were frustrated about this, but they did still love them, and that wouldn't change. They were going to need to work this out.

And that duality stayed in Miles, and probably Mom and Dad too. As Sander made efforts to look more boyish, and talk and act more like a boy, it made them all uncomfortable. They loved him, but they also just... didn't understand.

Miles wanted to understand, but despite many conversations with Sander over the next months, he just couldn't.

Sander wanted to be more bold and confident in himself, and so wasn't afraid of their family talking to others about it. Miles had tried to talk to some of his friends about it, but then one of his friends had accused him of being transphobic, and that he should accept Sander's transition, and make it as comfortable for him as possible.

And that was the problem. Miles wanted to be nice - but there things he was uncomfortable with, mixed in with things he thought were true. Was he reallly transphobic just because he felt uncomfortable around his brother?

Dad seemed more broken up than Miles was, though Mom was as well. Before Sandy had become Sander, she'd always been a Daddy's girl. Miles hadn't just defaulted to being a Momma's boy though, but just... his parents' son.

One would think he'd like to have a brother - it was like having a best friend that was around all the time. But he liked having his sister beside him. He'd always sort of imagined like they were Dipper and Mabel from Gravity Falls.

Miles had liked girly Sandy. She had seemed to like it so much. But maybe she'd been faking it the whole time.

That felt like the biggest problem Miles dealt with as the months passed. He felt he didn't know his sibling anymore. Hiding her secret desires to be a boy had ruined the illusion that they shared everything together.

Sander had told him all he'd wanted to know about it. In some small measure, the act seemed to tell Sander that Miles knew it would make Sander feel good to talk about it.

There was never animosity between them. Just awkwardness. And even though Sander told him all, it didn't feel the same as what Miles had known before, that he and his sibling had experienced everything together.

*****

After a school year of Sander presenting as a boy, they had for the most part adjusted to his change, even if things, sadly, weren't as friendly as they'd been before. Even so, moments of tenseness sprang up every now and then.

One such day was today.

"Sander sweetie," Mom asked, "are you sure -"

"Yes Mom," Sander said in annoyance. "I don't know why we have to keep going through with this. I've felt this way for years. It's not a phase."

Mom looked equally annoyed, to hear the same lecture from Sander again that she'd gave a speech on countless times.

Miles spat out his toothpaste, finishing brushing his teeth. Today's speech began when Mom announced that she was taking stuff to goodwill in the morning, and to bring out anything we didn't want to add to the pile. Sander had started carrying girl's clothes out that had been buried deep in his closet.

Mom wheezed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Honey..."

"Mom," Sander interrupted again, "remember what I said..."

"Augh," she groaned, "I know Sander. You don't like me saying 'honey' or 'sweetie' cause it isn't 'manly'. I don't think it's a phase. I've never wanted to demean you. I know you care about it... it's just..."

"You just... were afraid to let go."

Mom and Sander turned to Miles, who had stepped out of the bathroom.

Sander adopted a calmer expression - something that Miles had been encouraging him to do. Even though Miles felt a disconnect between him and Sander, the two of them talked about Sander's problems more than Mom and Dad did.

But Miles also talked to Mom and Dad about their struggles with it. On both sides, when they'd voiced displeasure about something the other said, he'd tried his best to quell the anger. He'd basically become the family diplomat.

His peacekeeping worked this time, thankfully. It was a lot harder when both sides were in the room together.

Mom looked down at the shirt she had in her hands. It was a pretty, soft yellow color, with a sort of cloth flower thing on the shoulder.

"I''m sorry," Mom said. "I'll... I'll add them to the pile."

Sander pursed his lips, then tromped downstairs, presumably to play games with a group of trans people he'd met online. They were his vent when he was too angry to talk to Miles. Miles fraternized with the enemy, and so was unable to joy in venting.

Miles didn't care, as long as Mom didn't hear the things Sander said to his friends.

Miles saw tears in Mom's eyes, and gave her gentle hug.

"He doesn't understand Miles," Mom said. "He still seems to think I'm upset because of wasted money on clothes."

She teared up more. "Wouldn't we spend all our money on both of you to save you if you had a brain tumor? Wouldn't we help you all we could if one of you was born with severe autism? Why does Sander think this emotional pain is any less important to us?"

"I think he has a lot of issues he deals with Mom. He changes his opinion on what's wrong on a monthly basis."

Mom sighed. "You're right. I just... I just wish that we could all move past this, myself included. But I can't. I keep thinking back to last summer, when everything seemed perfect. I know it wasn't.

"But... I just feel like I knew who both of you were. Now, every time I try to get close to Sander, and talk to him, he either backs off and ignores me or we get angry at each other."

Mom said this as she walked back into Sander's room, where a pile of colorful clothes contrasted with the now muted tones of the bedroom. She sighed as she sat down on the bed, and Sander joined her.

"It's just gotten exhausting. Change is hard."

"Yeah," Miles agreed.

Mom's tears didn't run down her cheeks anymore, but stayed pooled in her eyes. She didn't usually sob much when he'd seen her cry. Her crying was softer, and longer. It seemed to indicate a numbness inside of her. One that didn't easily go away.

Miles glanced down at the yellow shirt Mom had set down on the bed.

"It's too bad Sander doesn't like the colorful clothing," he remarked. "I think it's cute."

A brief smile flashed on Mom's face, then faded.

She needs some cheering up, he decided.

Miles took the shirt, and pulled off his pajama top, putting the shirt on over his head. Seeing the movement, Mom turned to look at him.

"How do I look?" he said with a chuckle.

Mom smiled. "You've got it on backwards sweetheart."

"Oh!" Miles turned it around. "There, now how do I look?"

"Nice," Mom said simply.

Miles saw her mood returning.

He looked back to the pile, and stomaching his discomfort, pulled off his pajama bottoms, and grabbed a skirt from the pile, pulling it on.

It was a very, very odd experience. Miles had never experienced this.

Mom let out a nervous chuckle. "What are you doing sweetie?"

Miles smiled back at her. "I guess... if we're getting rid of these... might just give them one more wear."

"Well you look very pretty in that skirt Miles."

Miles blushed.

Mom stood up, about the same height as him.

"Hm," Mom hummed to herself.

She walked over to the door.

"Mom?" Miles asked.

"Just... just let me try something," Mom said.

She walked over to the bathroom, and then came back, closing the door behind her. She was holding a brush in her hand.

"Miles...," Mom asked, "would... would it be alright... if I styled your hair?"

He saw the pleading smile on her face.

"Do you... maybe want to do it in front of the vanity in you and Dad's room?"

Mom smiled. "Alright."

They went into the other room. Dad was at work. They had the room to themselves.

Mom began her work of brushing his hair down. His dark hair was long, but he usually had it kind of gelled up. He hadn't gelled it in a bit, and now, Mom had somehow styled his hair to look...

Like a girl's.

it wasn't that long. It was the length a girl might get a pixie cut.

Miles's eyes were slightly widened.

"I know," Mom sighed, "this is strange. But... it was nice... just getting to do this again."

"Oh no Mom," Miles met her eyes in the mirror, "I... it definitely isn't how I'd do my hair. But it does look pretty."

"Thank you Miles."

Again, Mom's mood seemed to fade.

"Hey Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Do.... do you want to paint my nails?"

Mom's mouth went slightly agape.

"I... are you sure?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Only if you're comfortable with it MIles."

"I... I guess I'm curious to see how it'd look."

"Okay," Mom smiled. "I'll make them look nice. I won't paint them, but I think I'll put some gloss on them."

"Okay," Miles smiled.

With a growing grin, his Mom went to work.