By the time I pulled into my house’s driveway, I’d managed to calm myself down. Somewhat.

There was no way Woods had recognised me, right? After all, right at that moment I looked very much different than the boy I pretended to be when I was at school: jeans and baggy hoodie, versus nice shirt and sweater with a skirt and tights. My hairstyle was different, too, and even my face, owing to the make-up I’d carefully applied earlier that afternoon.

I took a quick glance in the mirror, and noticed the bandage I still had on my cheek.

Shit.

The bandage. Of course, that’s what--

No, Emily, calm down. There’s no way such a small detail would catch someone’s attention. There was no way Woods had noticed it, he wasn’t the type to pay attention to such details.

Was he?

Ah well. Either he had recognised me, or he hadn’t. Nothing I could do about it. It was probably better not to tell my family about the encounter I’d had, though, to avoid making them worry too.

I sighed deeply, got out of the car, and walked to the house. “I’m home!” I announced, walking through the front door.

My dad was pacing through the living room, his cellphone glued to his ear, and he was speaking into it in a foreign language – a Nordic language, either Norwegian or Swedish, I could never tell the difference between the two despite having heard him speak them plenty of times; he smiled and waved at me when he saw me.

“Welcome back!” my mother called from the kitchen, and Tony poked his head through the kitchen door and greeted me enthusiastically before retreating through it.

“Hi, sis,” Chloe said, looking up at me from the couch. “How did it go?”

“Very well,” I replied. “The doctor actually upped my dose, I should start getting better results soon enough.”

“Oh, that’s great!” she said with a smile. “More boobs then?”

I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, more boobs.”

“Ja, okay. Tak skal du have,” Dad said, and hung up. “Sorry, unexpected work call. What was that about boobs?”

“Doc put me on a higher dose, so they will probably start growing faster from now on,” I said.

“Hey, congrats girl!” he said, punching me in the shoulder. “So you’re finally gonna grow a pair?”

I rolled my eyes. “Daaaaaad, that joke was funny the first few times, but not any more.”

“Sorry, I’m your dad, so jokes are a must,” he replied with a smirk. “And there’s more where dad came from.”

I groaned, while he and my sister laughed.

“No, seriously, though,” he said. “I’m really happy for you, Emily.”

He spread his arms wide, inviting me in for a hug, and I complied. “Thanks, Dad,” I said, hugging him tightly before letting go. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He scoffed. “Nah, you would’ve managed. You’re a warrior, kid. You got attitude.”

He raised his hand, and touched the bandage that covered my cheek.

“Ah…” I said, trying to think of an excuse. “This is…”

“Don’t bother,” he said with a smile. “Your mom already told me what happened.”

“Dad, I…” I began.

He shook his head, still smiling. “I don’t like it when you fight, Emily,” he said. “But you have a good enough head on your shoulders to know when it’s needed and when it’s not, so I trust your judgement.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” He rubbed my shoulder comfortingly. Then, after a pause, he continued: “So what do you say we head to dinner? I heard Mom tried out a new recipe tonight, a beef stew or something.” He lowered his voice and glanced between me and Chloe. “I’ll let you taste it first, in case it’s poisonous.”

“I heard that!” my mom shouted from the kitchen. “No dessert for you!”

Dad stopped in his tracks. “But Becca…” he whined.

“No buts!” Mom said, walking out of the kitchen and smiling sweetly at him. “I’ll give it to Emily, her boobs need calories to grow.”

“Mom!” I exclaimed, blushing fiercely.

“What?” she said. “They do.”

Tony looked from me to Mom and back again, and then said, “You can have mine too, Emily! It will make your boobs grow!”

We all stared at him, and then burst out laughing. “Sometimes I wonder what we’re teaching this kid,” Chloe said.

“Come on, dinner’s ready,” Mom said, ushering us into the dining room.

-----

After dinner (during which I told everyone in the family how my trip to the clinic went, though leaving out the encounter I had) I went upstairs, changed into my pyjamas, and sat down at my desk to study a bit: I had a history test the following day, and while I was confident I could pass it no problem, I wanted to get a good grade, as to not ruin my GPA.

I only got a few lines into the Dreyfus Affair, though, before I heard someone knock; I looked up, and saw my dad standing in the door frame, between my room and the hallway.

“What’s up?” I said, replacing the cap on my fountain pen and setting it down.

“Can I come in?” my dad asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied; he walked into my room and sat down on the bed, and I turned my chair so I could face him.

There was a brief pause, as if he was gathering his thoughts, before he spoke up. “Is everything okay?”

I blinked, but then I swept a lock of hair away from my face and smiled. “Yeah, sure,” I said again. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just…” He hesitated for a moment, but then continued. “You’re worried about something. I can tell, you were unusually quiet at dinner. Mom noticed it too. Are you alright, Emily?”

My thoughts flashed back to seeing my nemesis in that hallway. At the expression on his face. At how he’d looked at me.

My forehead creased into a slight frown.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Really.”

Dad raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Really?”

I sighed. “Okay, maybe it’s not nothing,” I replied. “But it’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He looked at me for a few moments, a serious expression on his face, but then he smiled. “Okay!” he said brightly, standing up and clapping a hand down on my shoulder. “I trust you, Emily. I trust your judgment. Just…” He paused. “You can always talk to us. To me and your mom. If you need some advice, or even just to vent.”

I put my hand on his, and smiled back at him. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” He gestured to the book on my desk and continued, “I’ll leave you to your… J’Accuse,” he said, leaning in and peering at the text.

I laughed, and waved as he left my room, then turned back to studying; after about a half hour, having reviewed everything, I closed the textbook, stretched, laid down in bed, and turned off the light. It had been a very stressful day, so I fell asleep almost immediately.

-----

The next day at school I entered the history classroom without saying hi to anyone and sat down at my desk in silence. It wasn’t unusual: after all, I had quite a bit of a reputation as one of the school’s bad boys, so almost everyone, including my classmates, kept me at arm’s length, never speaking to me if not strictly necessary. I didn’t mind, though, there would be time to forge new friendships the following year, after I’d come out as a girl, but for the time being, I had exactly zero friends at school.

That’s why I was surprised when, while reviewing my notes for the upcoming text, I saw someone stop in front of my desk; I looked up, and saw it was the same person I’d met the previous day at the clinic, Josh Woods himself.

I think my face went slightly pale, but I managed to not show surprise; instead, I took a deep breath, and flashed him my best smile.

“Howdy, Woody!” I said. “What’cha doing here? This isn’t your classroom.”

He didn’t answer my jab, he just kept standing there, looking at me, the same expression he’d had the previous day on his face. I glanced around: all my classmates had stopped, and were looking at the two of us. There was dead silence in the room.

“Hello?” I said again. “Woody? Can I help ya with something?”

My words seemed to shake Woods out of some funk. Still staring at me, he jabbed a thumb towards the door.

“I need to talk to you, Wilson. Come with me,” he said, his voice flat.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Sorry, no can do.”

He seemed surprised I’d refused. “No?”

“No,” I repeated. “Got a test on first period, I really can’t skip that.”

He blinked at me. “A test? You care about a test?”

“I do,” I replied. “Or, rather, I care about my GPA. Sorry to say, Woody, but right now some long-dead Frenchmen are more important to me than you are.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay. During lunch, then. I’ll be waiting by the bike shed.”

I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll come listen to what you have to say,” I said. “If I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Oh, you better show up,” he said; he placed his hands on my desk and leaned in, his head over my shoulder, his mouth barely an inch from my ear. “Otherwise I’ll tell everyone,” he whispered.

Again I felt the colour drain from my face, but I quickly recovered. “…Alright,” I said. “Lunch period, then.”

He nodded briskly, then turned on his heel and marched out of the classroom without another word; after a moment of silence, the whole room erupted into whispers, people chatting excitedly at each other, while gesturing in my direction.

Great. Just great. This was just what I needed, really.

-----

The history test went smoothly, as it always did, despite the appointment with Woods looming on the horizon. You’d think that would distract me, but I’d always been good at compartmentalising, at shoving away something that worried me way in the back of my mind and locking it away, until I was ready to pull it out and face it: it was a skill I’d had all my life, but which had really developed in full since I’d hit puberty.

Still, before I could really prepare myself, the school bell rang, signalling that it was time for lunch. I sighed heavily, stood up from my desk, and walked to the bike shed, where Woods – and perhaps my doom – was waiting.

I didn’t even have to make it all the way to the shed before I saw him; he was waiting for me halfway there, bundled up in his coat – it was February, after all, it was still quite chilly. He grunted at me, and then nodded his head towards the bike shed before starting towards it, not even bothering to look back to see if I was following him.

When we arrived there were a few people there, a handful of freshies. The bike shed was out of the way and a popular gathering place for smokers who wished to escape the teacher’s eyes, and who didn’t know where the better hiding spots were yet. The freshmen looked up in surprise at us, and Woods glared at them. “Y’all fuck OFF!” he shouted, kicking the side of the shed hard, producing a loud, clanging noise from the metal, and making them quickly scamper away.

He kept glaring after them as they ran off, until he was satisfied they weren’t turning back, then turned to me. “Alright,” he said. “Now we can talk without anyone listening in.”

“Okay,” I said in return, crossing my arms. “About what?”

He stared at me for a few seconds, and then strode towards me; for some reason, he was very intimidating, so I found myself backing away, until my back hit the wall of the shed. Woods kept coming, slamming his right hand against the wall, almost pinning me in place, and leaning in to look carefully at my face. It was quite unnerving, and I felt my heart leap into my throat.

After a few moments he nodded, and straightened up, removing his arm taking a few steps away. “Don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he said.

“How you didn’t see what before?” I asked, catching my breath.

He ignored my question. “You know, I was out of the house yesterday evening, just going around, doing errands. And I happened to meet a girl.”

“So what, you got a girlfriend? Big whoop,” I said. “Can I go now?”

He shook his head. “Not quite yet, I’m not done. You see, at first I just thought, oh, look, a cute girl, oh, what a shame, she’s running away. But she felt real familiar, like I’d seen her somewhere before.”

I shrugged. “There’s, like, two hundred girls in this school. Maybe she’s one of them?”

“No, I would’ve remembered her, you don’t meet someone that cute every day.”

Cute. He called me cute, he – no, Emily, stop. Focus, this is not the time to be happy about someone complimenting you, especially not Josh Woods.

“But then,” Woods continued, as I shook my head to clear it, “I thought about it, and realised I had seen her before after all. Earlier that day. I’d even talked to her.”

“I still don’t see where I come in,” I said. Then I smirked. “No, wait, I get it, that conversation went really poorly, so you thought you’d get someone to feed you lines when you approach her again? And you came to ask me, since I’m the only person you really talk to in school. Sorry, I won’t be your Cyrano.”

He blinked at me. “What does that even mean?” he asked.

“It’s a literary reference,” I explained. “You see, there’s this dude, called--”

He held up a hand to stop me and closed his eyes in frustration. “No, stop, let’s not get sidetracked here. You know what I’m getting at, Wilson,” he said.

I tilted my head to the side. “No, I don’t.”

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Do I have to say it out loud? Alright.” He paused, and took a deep breath.

“It was you. You are the girl I saw yesterday.”

“No I’m not,” I quickly replied. A bit too quickly, probably.

“You are,” Woods said, nodding. “I mean, your faces are pretty much identical. And your hairstyle would be, too, if you undid that ponytail of yours and brushed your hair out.” He paused. “Also, she had a bandage on her cheek, same as you.”

Shit. My hand shot up to my cheek, and I felt at the bandage (why hadn’t I taken it off before coming to school?) and found its edges and ripped it off – too quickly, a couple layers of skin were ripped off along with it, too. “Ow, fuck,” I swore.

“Oh, damn, did that hurt?” Woods said, his voice surprisingly full of concern, taking a half step towards me. “Here, let me--”

“Do not fucking touch me!” I hissed, raising a finger in warning and glaring at him, while massaging my cheek with my other hand. “And this is all circumstantial evidence anyway. What, do you really think I spend my afternoons after school going around cross-dressing?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all, Wilson.”

“Then… What? What is all this?” I demanded.

He stared directly at me. “I’m saying I think you’re trans.”

I blinked. I felt my mouth fall open in surprise. Wait, hold on, this dumbass actually knew what being trans is? Josh Woods? Woody? This backwards, ignorant--

No, hold on. Actually, I didn’t really know that much about him to begin with anyway. I mean we’d butted heads several times, but we’d never really talked with each other. It was possible he was actually quite aware of social issues.

But that was beside the point, really. What mattered right there and then was that he had me completely figured out.

We kept glaring at each other for a few moments, and then I sighed. I moved the muscles in my throat, and slipped into my well practised female voice; I crossed my arms in front of me, and leaned back against the bike shed, giving him a challenging stare.

“Alright, okay. I’m trans,” I said. “So what?”

He stared at me in surprise. “Whoa, wait, what? How did you do that?” he asked.

“How did I do what?”

“Your voice. It sounds… How are you making it sound like that?”

“Very carefully,” I replied. “It takes time and training and practice. But anyway, yes. I’m trans. So what?” I repeated, putting an edge in my voice.

He looked at me for a few seconds. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Wilson. Or Miss Wilson to you, Woody,” I said.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant your real name.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise. “Real name?”

“Yeah, your real name,” he answered. “I mean, you have a boy name, which if I remember correctly is--”

“Don’t.”

“…Sorry,” he said. “But that means you also have a girl name. Your real name. What is it?”

I stared at him in amazement: I never thought someone my age, Woods least of all, would know so much about trans issues. It was really surprising.

“Emily,” I said. “My name is Emily.”

He nodded. “Okay. Emily.” Then he smirked. “Nice name, did your mom pick it out for you?”

I huffed. “She did, actually.”

Woods blinked in surprise. “She did?”

“She did,” I confirmed, with a nod. “She and my dad, after I came out to them. They said that since I am a girl, I couldn’t keep calling myself by my old name, and picked a new one for me.”

“That’s… Really nice.”

“Yeah, it really is.” I smiled warmly at the memory.

We were silent for a few moments, then I shook myself back to the present. “You still haven’t answered my question: so what? You know I’m trans, so what do you intend to do with this information? Are you going to out me to the entire school?”

“What? No!” he replied. “I would never do that!”

“Then… What? You’re going to blackmail me? To force me to do something for you? To stop bothering you? To buy you lunch?” I paused. “Because I would do it. That, and more. I can’t afford to get outed, not right now.”

“I get that,” Woods said. “And that’s why I called you out here, to reassure you.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not going to tell. Your secret is safe with me.”

I looked at him in surprise. “Just like that?”

He nodded. “Just like that.”

“But… Why?” I asked. “We’re rivals. We hate each other. We’ve been trying to one-up one another for months now. Why would you not use my secret to get ahead?”

“Because I know what it’s like,” he answered.

I hesitated. Wait, what did he mean by that? “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“I know you’re trans because I saw you, en femme, at the clinic yesterday,” he said. “But have you paused to consider why I was at the clinic in the first place? Why I know so much about being trans?”

“Because you’re… A really good ally?” I said.

He sighed deeply. “Jesus Christ, Emily, you’re cute, but you’re quite dumb, you know?” he said.

“I’m not dumb!” I protested. “I--”

“Come here,” he said. He stepped towards me and, before I could react, he’d snatched one of my hands, unzipped his coat partway, and pressed my hand against his chest. “Feel that?” he asked.

I did feel it. They were barely there, and flattened as if kept in place by a really tight sports bra, but it was unmistakable: Josh Woods had breasts.

“You’re…” I said, looking up at his face.

He nodded. “I was at the clinic yesterday to get a check up after eight months on testosterone,” he said. “I’m trans, too.”