"You have to get these, Han. They're adorable!"

Jessie holds a pair of earrings, gold studs with pink lacquer hearts attached to them. They're cute, in a playful sort of way--not something I'd ever wear to a formal event or anything, but absolutely the sort of thing I might put on for a Saturday afternoon with my girlfriend. Which is what today is, after all.

It's just after lunch time. I'm nursing two sore ears, freshly pierced in town before we headed for a bite to eat. The studs that are in them at the moment have to stay in for a few weeks, but then I'll be free to plump for whatever fashion I feel like. Jessie spent the entire time I was getting my ears done picking various earrings off the rack and showing them to me. I told her no--I don't need them just yet, and there are other things I'd like to buy with my limited pocket money. It would be a tragedy indeed if I missed out on a gorgeous dress or something because I'd spent all my money on four hundred pairs of earrings.

My resistance is run thin, though. And the heart ones are cute.

Fuck it. "How much are they?"

A smile crosses Jessie's face. "That's the best bit. They're free."

"No they aren't."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Shops don't give stuff away for free, Jessie. They'd run out of money."

She giggles. "The shop didn't give them away. I bought them. And now I'm giving them to you--for free. Sometimes I just want to give my girlfriend a present."

I blush. "I thought you didn't want people to know."

Jessie shrugs. "There's levels to it. I'm not about to go and tell the whole school I'm a lesbian, but if people do find out then I'm not going to lose sleep over it. So long as they're cool about it." She grins. "Besides, you've been the bravest fucking person, just telling everyone you're a girl and letting the chips fall where they may. Compared to that, how could I hide myself away? I like you too much for that." She leans in to kiss me.

"Only like?" I say, with a smirk.

"Like and love. Not always in that order."

"Well, I love you too." And then I kiss her, and I don't let go until she's giggling away and both of us have bright red faces.

*

Jessie's Mum drives us back from town in the mid-afternoon. Both of us are laden down with heavy shopping bags, and only a small fraction of what we've bought is for Jessie. For my part, I've pretty well drained my bank account dry. Worth it, though. I'm now the proud owner of a pair of suede boots with a fur lining, for the incoming colder weather, as well as four new tops and a couple of dresses. Courtesy of Jessie I also have a pair of black kitten heels, "because you'll need to be practiced in them before my performance." I feel a bit guilty letting Jessie spend so much money on me, but she's hard to say no to. In fact, not hard. Impossible. She's one of those individuals who, when they've got it into their head that they want to buy you something, will absolutely buy it for you.

"How has your day been, Hannah?" her mum asks.

"It's been great," I say, beaming.

"You look happier already," she tells me. "And may I say, you were made to be a girl. The last time I saw you it looked like you were in an oversized, misshapen old coat. Right now you're radiant."

"I feel well on my way to being right," I tell her. Of course, there are a few parts of me that are still far from how I want them to be, but nice as Jessie's mum is I'm really not comfortable with the idea of talking about my unwanted genitalia with her. Boundaries, ya know?

"I'm happy for you," she says. "And you know, if you ever need anything, just you come to me and ask. Far as I'm concerned, you're family."

"Thank-you."

When we finally get back to Jessie's house, I can't wait to be out of the car and in her annexe bedroom. I want to be clear: I don't dislike her mum or anything. Quite the opposite. She's been nothing but kind and accepting to me all along--and that is the crux of what I find uncomfortable. There's still a part of me that rejects any compliments. Files them away as "not earned". The more Jessie's mum shows me the love her daughter's girlfriend warrants, the more I feel like I'm taking her for a ride. Like I'm here, occupying the role of some other girl. Worse--like I'm just a pretend-girl, in the place where a real girl should be. I've never been pretty, not in fifteen years. For most of that time the very idea that I could be pretty one day was a far-out one that I had never considered and would have almost certainly scoffed at. Now, now that Hannah has awoken and I'm me at last, I do want to be pretty. I want to be cute. I want to be adorable.

But even in my favourite green dress and my best-done make-up, I don't feel as though I am pretty. Not yet.

And that's why I can't wait to be back to the privacy of Jessie's bedroom. Well, that and the big haul of new clothes I'm excited to try on. Jessie did suggest painting our nails, but I put a pin in that idea for now. Officially it's against the school uniform. All my life I've toed the line and complied with every rule whether just or not, simply as a way of avoiding unwanted attention. Of course, that was the ill-fitting mask of Harry speaking. Hannah is not going to be such a rule stickler, I'm sure. But it's a week until half-term, and the last thing I want to do is run afoul of the uniform code on my first day. Despite what the receptionist said I'm not convinced the school is staffed with only supportive allies. The bigots are probably just smart enough not to do anything that would get them sacked--but picking on the trans girl because her nails are painted, or her skirt is an inch too short, would be a great way for them to stick the knife in without technically doing anything wrong. I can't exactly take the school to court because a teacher told me off for breaking a school rule. So on Monday my uniform will be perfect, to the letter.

Except this time, it'll be something I actually like wearing.

Once we're in her room, Jessie flops on her bed and sighs. "I like this," she says. "And I like you better this way. When you were pretending to be a boy, even though I knew you were a girl, it was like you were holding yourself back. You always seemed nervous. But when you're like this, you're free. Just pure Hannah--girl unconfined."

"I'm happy," I tell her. "That's the difference."

She pouts. "I'd be happy too," she says. "If I had a kiss."

I give her what she wants.

"Charlotte Kennedy knows, by the way," I tell her, remembering the message Charlotte had sent me yesterday.

Jessie frowns. "The whole school knows, love. Wasn't that the point of the assembly?"

"Not that I'm trans, numpty," I say. "I mean, she does know that, but that wasn't what I meant. She knows that you're lesbian."

Jessie freezes for a second, and it's immediately clear that she hadn't told Charlotte.

"Are you sure?"

I nod. "She wasn't exactly euphemistic about it. In her exact words, you're 'gay as anything'. And the weird thing is that she figured out that I'm trans because she knew you were gay, and that we were together. So I'm guessing she's known for a while."

Jessie's eyes are wide. "Am I that obvious?"

"I don't think so?" I shrug. "I mean, I had no idea you were until you told me. When I was a boy I wanted you to date me."

"You were never a boy, love."

"You know what I mean," I say. "Point is, I didn't have a clue."

She laughs. "And you are the densest of eggs, so perhaps your gaydar isn't fully functioning."

"I doubt my gaydar's even switched on," I tell her. "Why don't I message Charlotte later? Ask her how she figured you out?"

"Please." Jessie rubs her elbow.

"I mean, it might just be that she's got a talent for it. Some people can just figure stuff out--your mum knew I was trans before either of us told her, remember?"

"Or maybe I've spent all this time hiding myself for no reason," Jessie mutters. "Because people figured it out." I can see she's beginning to cry. "What if... what if someone told everyone?" And then she can't hold back the tears any longer.

Transitioning, bringing your female self into the world, is a process that's full of big moments but just as many innocuous little ones. You plan for the hormones, the surgeries, the name changes and the new wardrobes. You don't plan for the first time you feel the wind whipping at your skirt, or the moment you look in the mirror and for a second see a strange girl looking back at you. So many things, big and small, are different--and most of them we don't even realise are different until they suddenly hit us directly in the face. This is one of those moments.

It's a funny thing, in truth. I've never known what to do when someone cries. I've always just sort of sat there awkwardly, trying to comfort the crying person while also keeping my distance--it just always felt wrong to do anything more. But here, for the first time, I'm not awkward at all. I just do what needs to be done. I sit myself down next to Jessie, hug her tight, my arms enfolded in hers. I let her weep softly into my shoulders as I rub concentric circles on her back. And when she stops sobbing long enough to come up for air, I meet her lips with a kiss.

"I love you," I tell her. "And I know you have the strength to meet this. However many people know, you're you. You're brilliant. And for what it's worth, I've been in the boys' changing rooms. The shit that goes on in there--worst place on the planet, I tell you. But you know what? The boys think you're a catch. I've heard talk of trying to ask you out on a date. Trust me, Jessie: if the whole school knew you were gay, those conversations wouldn't be happening."

Through bleary eyes she looks at me. "I wish that were true," she says. "But the truth is they probably just think they can turn me straight with their magic touch or something."

"The rugby team might think that," I concede, "but Gareth Haines? Danny Thatcher?" I name the captain of the chess club and a preternatural cello prodigy respectively. Both are widely known to be decent blokes.

Jessie shakes her head. "I suppose not," she says. "I'm sorry. This is your first day full-time and I'm ruining it crying."

"No," I assure her. "You could never ruin anything. You make the day better just by being here."

She sniffles. "Find out what Charlotte knows, if you can," she tells me. "You're right. If everyone knows, I can face that. But I need to know if everyone knows."

"I'll send her a message as soon as I get home."

"Do you not have Messenger on your phone?"

I shake my head. "Flip phone," I tell her. "Fifteen quid, all in. I can call and I can text and that's the extent of it. We can't afford anything else."

Jessie puts her arm around me. "Come on," she says. "Let me see my beautiful girlfriend in all her pretty new clothes."