“So, let me know if you wanna keep any of this stuff to decorate in here.” Jen held up a lava lamp briefly before setting it inside a box of other things we’d cleared up around the room.

“Right.” I was trying to keep quiet and fly under the radar… if I got my hopes up and decorated this room, pretended her offer to let me stay past the original week was genuine, I’d just be let down later.

“Oh, these are cute! I forgot I had these.” Jen held up a strand of small lights excitedly.

“What are they?”

“Fairy lights! You can hang them above your bed or around stuff and they add a really soft cute splash of light to accent the room! Here, take a look.” She smiled and strung them across the headboard, then plugged them into the socket behind the bed and switched them on. It was kind of hard to see the effect with the sun still shining outside, so I couldn’t really render much of an opinion.

We ended up filling another box of ‘hand-me-downs’, and a big box of decorations that I would have to sort through later to see if I wanted anything. I had claimed a few things before they went in - against my own advice to not get my hopes up - and placed them around the room. Most of what I picked were framed posters - things Jen meant to hang elsewhere in the apartment but hadn’t gotten around to it. Most were nerdy or gaming related, and while I didn’t really know anything about the games, the artwork seemed cool. The largest one hung above my bed, featuring a white lotus blooming open with a beautiful lady in matching white attire - a kimono, Jen said - and was advertising something she called a “JRPG”. I just thought the art was pretty.

==========

Jen cooked dinner instead of ordering out - spaghetti and meatballs, with homemade garlic bread. I’d been watching her work from a stool at the counter when she glanced up at me and smiled.

“Wanna lend me a hand?” she asked.

“I don’t know anything about cooking.” I really hadn’t ever cooked anything. Unless severely overcooking a rat over a barrel fire counted. In which case I totally know how to do that. 

“C’mere, it’s easy! I’ll show you.” She motioned me closer, and I hopped off the stool to join her. “Okay, so I’ll have you start easy. Peeling the garlic for the garlic bread! What I need you to do is take this metal spatula, put the clove of garlic - that’s one of these little white bits - on the cutting board, then just press down on it until it cracks using the spatula. Then you just peel the papery skin off, and toss the good stuff in this bowl here.”

It sounded easy enough, so I nodded and got started. She watched me for the first couple, giving me a few little pointers, but was soon satisfied I had the hang of it and went back to preparing other things. 

Dinner ended up pretty great. In all I helped with the garlic bread from start to finish, and even though it didn’t come out as good as I’m sure it would have if Jen had done it by herself, she still gushed about how well I did for a first time chef. I had to admit, that made me feel good. I remember from my first foster home that it’s the kids’ job to wash dishes after a meal, so I started washing them after dinner. Jen seemed surprised, but let me do it with her thanks in return.

With the washing up done, we took turns showering and changing into our sleepwear. Jen let me know that it was okay to wear pyjamas more than once, as long as you didn’t sweat in them too badly the night before, not that I wasn’t used to wearing outfits until they wore out, so I kept the same outfit she’d loaned me already. The design on the pants was a bit cutesy, featuring some weirdly drawn cats, and they stopped far short of my ankles. Like the shirt, they fit pretty loosely, having to be tied as tight as possible to stay up. Jen frowned when I showed her how tightly I had tied them around my waist. I’m not sure why. Maybe she thought it made her seem fat? Or because I look like a skeleton when I roll my shirt up? Probably that second one.

Suited up in our pyjamas we settled in for the night in front of Webflix for some more movies. Around 9pm a call came in - it was the doorman letting Jen know she had a priority package she had to sign for. She told me to keep watching the movie and she’d be back shortly. I wasn’t really going to argue the issue, given my attire, I had no desire to leave the apartment.

She only ended up being gone for about ten minutes, and when she returned she had a hefty looking box in her arms. She must be stronger than she looks, given how easily she was hauling the box around.

I recognized the stamp on the side immediately. The Bureau of Gender Services (and those very words around the seal, conveniently enough, telling me that was who the logo, and thus the box, had come from. Okay so maybe I didn’t recognize it until I saw the words.) Jen grabbed a box cutter from her ‘junk drawer’ and cut through the packing tape carefully. There was a thick, large envelope on top of everything else, and Jen set it aside for the moment. After that, it was a parade of clothing: a couple packs of underwear, a couple ‘training’ bras (I blushed when Jen pulled those out and set them beside the other underwear,) a bunch of different jeans, leggings, and of course the most dreaded, skirts and dresses. The shirts (‘tops’, Jen said,) were tamer, mostly looking like regular guys’ shirts, except the necklines tended to be different, the sleeves were shorter, and the fit was definitely not as roomy looking.

Jen seemed all too happy to start matching things off into “outfits”, and I was all too happy to not engage with that nonsense at all. Instead, I took the large envelope and untwisted the little thread holding it closed. Inside were a ton of papers - one large packet seemed to be information regarding ‘Regens’ from the BGS. Another was a ‘personal hygiene & self care’ guide. Pass. A list of helpful websites or phone numbers to call, support group meeting dates and times, and a “Student Handbook” for Harrison High School - I knew I recognized the name, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I recognized it from.

The last things in the envelope were a small card with my social security number on it - and my new name, of course… ‘Katarina D. Carson’ I wondered if the D still stood for Dean or if they had changed it. I hoped they had. I really didn’t want that souvenir from my dad. The other card identified me just as ‘Carson, Katarina’, and looked like a temporary student ID for the same school as the handbook was for. Finally there was a letter within its own standard envelope, but that was specifically addressed to Jen, so I didn’t bother opening it.

Instead, my attention was tugged forcefully back to the outfits.

“Just try a few on, pleeeeease?” Jen pleaded, giving me a pouty look. She’d been so nice to me… I couldn’t really say no. So with reluctance I agreed to try on a few of the outfits.

That quickly turned into trying on all of the outfits, skirts, leggings, jeans, tops, and even the two plain ‘sundresses’ that had been included. Thankfully the final option before the whole runway show was over was the last dress. I stepped out of the bedroom in the breezy white dress, still not comfortable with quite how high on my thighs it fell. If I was a few inches shorter, it’d probably look cute. Wait, what? I shook my head, and picked up the pace back to the living room. The faster I got this done with this the better.

“Oh wow. That is so perfect on you.” Jen stood and moved closer, circling around me. It made me kinda nervous. “It helps to hide your build well right now, but it’d look just as cute no matter what.” She smiled, placing her hands on my bare shoulders. I flinched a bit. “Alright, I can tell you’re uncomfortable… how about you go and get changed, and we’ll meet back here in a few minutes? I’ll make us some hot cocoa. Just a couple little things to talk about before we pack in for the night!” She waved me away, hurrying to the kitchen.

I was all too glad to get back to the bedroom and change, especially after I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror on the wall next to the reach-in closet.

This is weird.

I twisted in place a little, watching the lightweight fabric swish around.

So weird.

But… I don’t… entirely hate it. I did a little spin, feeling the lower part of the dress flare out from my body when I did. I couldn’t stifle a laugh, and caught my reflection grinning at me. A brief moment of dizziness overcame me - that’ll teach me to spin around - and it took a moment to steady myself.

Huh. It does look better falling just above the knee! I picked at the hem again and let it fall. Maybe spinning stretched out a wrinkle or something? That had to be it, right? Clothes didn’t just spontaneously get longer. I tugged it off unceremoniously and pulled the sleep shirt and pyjama pants back on, before heading back out to the wafting smell of delicious cocoa.

Crossing the living room to the couch, I felt the pyjama pants brushing the top of my feet, and I looked down to make sure they weren’t falling off. Nope, still securely tied where I had put them. Or maybe I had tied them a bit lower? No, they were definitely tied at the same spot on my waist. It was almost like they’d gotten longer, too. Or maybe...

“All ready for our cha--” Jen stopped, staring at me from her spot halfway between the kitchen area and the couch.

I looked over at her, stirred from my thoughts. “Huh? Is something wrong, Jen?”

She shook her head, and continued approaching me. “Just a second…” She set the mugs on the coffee table, and stepped closer to me. We were nearly face to face now. 

Wait a minute.

My brain whirred as I tried to process how I was now eye to eye with Jen. I’d been a head taller, looking down at her when we talked not ten minutes before… A frantic swipe of the watch woke it, and brought it to the status bar screen, confirming the worst.

‘Particle Saturation - 60%’

I showed the watch to Jen, and she pulled me in for a hug. I tried not to cry. Tried being the operative word. I let my head rest on her shoulder, and wrapped my arms around her. She made quiet calming shushing noises, and tried to tell me it would be okay.

I wanted to believe her, but the fact that I could easily rest my head on her shoulder only drove home this most recent change. At this rate, I’d never go back to normal. That thought only brought on a renewed wave of tears.

We never did discuss what she had wanted to - or drink the cocoa she made. I eventually cried myself out, and I wasn’t in the mood for either by then. Jen walked me back to my room, wished me good night, and shut the door on her way out.

I probably would have laid awake for hours again, focusing on the unfairness of the situation, but I was completely exhausted. My eyelids drifted shut, and stayed shut, ushering me into sleep.