Tuesday, I went to study hall after Biology. I was summoned from there to the office; Mom was waiting for me.

"I've signed you out," she said; "we're running late for your doctor's appointment. Let's go."

"Did you talk to the principal?" I asked as we left. "Oh -- how are we getting there?" Mom was as strong as she was going to get, but we still didn't have a car whose driver's seat she could fit into.

"On the bus." One of the new county bus routes stopped right by the school, but we had to change buses in downtown Marietta before we got to Dr. Borenstein's office.

"I talked to the principal," she continued as we got to the bus stop. I sat on the bench; Mom continued standing. "He... I think he made some good points."

"Mom! You said you were going to stand up for me!"

"I know, honey, but -- it wouldn't be honest to just go to him and tell him I insisted on you using the boys' locker room and bathrooms, without listening to what he had to say."

"What did you decide?"

"Nothing final. I said you felt uncomfortable using the girls' showers or bathrooms, and he said it was more important whether the boys or girls would be more uncomfortable having you shower with them. There's going to be some awkwardness either way, we can't avoid that. And -- I said you were biologically no more a girl than you are a boy, now, so there was no reason the school should make you use the girls' rooms, they should let you use whichever you're more comfortable with. I thought that would give you more flexibility, if you change your mind later --"

"I won't." The bus pulled up in front of us, and we got on.

"Well, it seemed like a good idea to keep your options open. After a while you might decide the boys are too hostile to you showering with them and you want to take your chances with the girls."

"It's not going to be easy, I guess, but I need to stick to my guns, or people won't take me seriously." I thought about the bully in the bathroom yesterday, and whether that was going to get more common or less; I had no idea.

"Anyway. He agreed that I was right about the basic biology of it, but disagreed that it was relevant -- he said your external anatomy is all the school cares about, and that's basically feminine, even if you can't have children. He said they didn't inquire into whether other staff or students were fertile, just -- um -- what plumbing they have."

"Yeah, that's what he said yesterday."

"So he didn't give way, and I didn't have anything more to say, but I didn't want to give up, so I repeated myself a couple of times, and he repeated himself a couple of times, and then I saw what time it was and said I needed to take you to the doctor."

"Okay... Thanks for trying." I didn't say much else for a while. I wondered if I would have been better off having Dad argue with the principal instead; maybe so, but it would have meant waiting several days, maybe until after I'd already gone back to P.E., before Dad would have another day off and could go meet the principal. Dad still thought of me as a boy, and fully agreed with me that I ought to be using the boys' showers and bathrooms, while Mom -- I wasn't sure. I suspected she thought I was wrong but was humoring me anyway, that she thought of me as a girl who hadn't figured out she was a girl yet. Or maybe she was just more realistic about what it meant for me to be a neuter, neither the one nor the other -- that would make sense of her saying I should keep my options open.

When we got to the clinic, I told Dr. Borenstein's nurse, Mindy (a centaur), about falling in the shower Friday, and what the doctor at the emergency room had said. Mom gave her a copy of the discharge paperwork from the emergency room, and said: "Jeffrey needs a full physical, too. He hasn't been to the doctor since Valentine's Day."

"Where were you then?" Mindy asked me.

"Athens," I said.

"Athens, Georgia?"

"Yes."

"I'll let Dr. Borenstein know." She finished checking my vital signs and left us alone for a while.

"Jeffrey," Mom said when we'd been sitting there quiet for a minute or two, before I could focus again on the section of my algebra textbook I was trying to wrap my brain around, "Dr. Borenstein is going to need to examine your new parts."

"Oh... yeah. I guess so."

"Do you want me to stay in the room for that, or leave?"

I wasn't sure. "Um... what's it like?"

"I'm not sure it will be the same for you, exactly, but..." She explained what was involved in a pelvic exam, for an old-style human woman, and I blushed red enough to give Joe McCarthy a heart attack. I dithered for another minute or two about whether it would be more embarrassing to have her with me, or more scary to go through it alone, and finally asked her to stay.

Dr. Borenstein turned out to be an Allatoona otter. She walked in looking at the papers from the hospital, and she asked me some questions about the accident, and how I'd been feeling since then; but also about all sorts of other things -- everything she would ask about every time I came to see her -- and about the Athens change. Then she finally started examining me.

As it turned out, the (pseudo-)vaginal exam was both worse and better than I expected. Worse, because Dr. Borenstein was constantly muttering under her breath about how odd and fascinating my nethers were. Better, because I don't think it lasted as long as it would have if I'd had everything she would have needed to examine if I'd had it. The pseudo-vagina was just a shallow cavity that didn't connect to a womb, and it didn't have the complex structure she expected a girl's parts to have. And I'm not as sensitive down there as a girl is -- or a boy, for that matter; maybe that's why it didn't hurt like I expected.

The rest of the physical was about like usual, except that she did some extra tests of my reflexes and stuff to make sure I didn't have delayed symptoms of a concussion, and she spent extra time checking the bruised areas too. She said I could go back to P.E. next Monday, which gave me more time to argue the school into letting me use the boys' showers.

I asked her if she could write a note to the school saying I wasn't actually a girl and didn't have any business using the girls' restrooms or showers.

"Hmm," she said. "You still think of yourself as a boy, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sort of. I mean, I know I'm not a boy, biologically, but I still think like one, and I'm certainly not a girl either."

"Well... I can write a note saying that you're neither a boy nor a girl, medically speaking, if that's what you want. And I could say that you identify as a boy and ought to be treated as one... but that might sound more convincing coming from a psychologist or psychiatrist than a general practitioner."

I looked at Mom. "I don't think I need a psychologist," I said, "but if it would help convince the principal to let me use the boys' showers and bathrooms, I guess it would be worth it."

"Maybe it would help," Mom said slowly. "Some counseling about the things you're going through at school might do some good -- you mentioned people staring at you and gossiping about you in the last couple of days. Dr. Borenstein, could you write us a referral?"

"Sure," she said. "Do you have someone in mind, or do you want me to recommend someone?"

"Yes and yes," she said. "I know someone at church who's a clinical psychologist and does counseling, but if you can recommend someone too, I'll check with our insurance and see if either or both of them are in the network."

We changed buses twice on the way home; the last bus stop was at the entrance of our subdivision, and we had a fair way to walk to get home. I was tired long before Mom was, mostly I guess because I was using a lot of energy to heal from those bruises. The suspension on the county public transit buses were better than on the school buses, but they still hadn't done my back any favors; I crashed as soon as we got home, reading my history textbook for a few minutes and then falling asleep.

-----

I took Dr. Borenstein's note to the office next morning before going to homeroom. The receptionist asked if I needed to see the principal or just wanted her to give him the note; I figured there wasn't any point in confronting him again, since he'd already conceded what Dr. Borenstein said in her note, and didn't think it mattered.

I got to Algebra early enough to talk to Latisha for a couple of minutes. "Where were you yesterday?" she asked.

"I had a doctor's appointment," I said. "Following up with my family doctor after the emergency room visit last week."

"Oh. What did they say?"

"The bruises are healing fine, and there's still no sign of a concussion." I kind of wanted to talk to her about the exam, and about being referred to a psychologist, but not in front of other people.

When I saw Will in Biology, I didn't say anything about being referred to a psychologist; I told him my parents were arguing with the school about me using the boys' or girls' restrooms and neither side had backed down yet. Latisha and I talked again at lunchtime, but not about anything important.

I was thinking I'd call Latisha or IM chat with her that night, but what with taking half a day off school the day before and not helping with the homebound ministry for the last few days, I'd forgotten what day it was; Mom and I went to church that night, and I didn't have time to talk to Latisha -- or Will -- privately until Thursday after school.

In spite of the principal's edict, I kept using the boys' restrooms, and for a few days nobody reported me. Some guys gave me dirty looks, and a couple of times they made fun of me, but there was nothing as bad as the bullies I'd run into on Monday.

Thursday evening, I ate supper with Dad -- it was the first time I'd seen him since Sunday, with him sleeping until I was gone to school and being at work until after I went to bed. We talked about school and the principal's stupid policy and Dr. Borenstein referring me to a psychologist.

"It might be a good idea, but you should be prepared to take it seriously," he said. "You want someone to tell the school they ought to let you keep using the boys' showers and bathrooms, but a good psychologist, like Dr. Ceccato at church, isn't going to just rubber-stamp what you've decided to do -- he's going to dig into your thoughts and motivations and help you figure out what you ought to do, whether you like it or not."

"And you think maybe he would agree with the principal -- and Mom?"

Dad flattened his ears. "I don't know. Your mother and I both want what's best for you, but -- maybe Henry Grady High just isn't it. I'm afraid trouble with the boys or the girls or both is going to be inevitable, if you're the only one like you at your school. Would you want to go to school in Athens, if we can work it out?"

I gaped at him. "You mean, we'd move there? Close to Uncle Mike?"

"Maybe. It depends on various factors, whether your mother or I or both can find jobs in Athens over the summer, and whether Athens has good enough public transit for your mother's needs. We probably can't afford a car customized for her build, not if we're moving this year. But another possibility -- I talked with your uncle about it this afternoon -- is that you could live with him during the school year, and come back to live with us in the summer. We'd visit often on weekends, of course, one direction or another..."

"I don't know. It would be... It would avoid a lot of trouble, I guess, but all my friends are here; I don't know anybody in Athens except Uncle Mike."

"Let's think about it more later, then. See how these issues at school work out. And if you think it would help to talk to someone other than us about it, we'll find someone -- Dr. Ceccato or somebody just as good."

A little later, after I'd gone to my room and done some homework, Latisha came online and we chatted.

scribbler371: have your parents talked about moving to hartwell or athens or somewhere around there?

obsidian14: a little, yeah. but there aren't as many jobs in hartwell. that's why we moved here when i was little.

scribbler371: my parents are talking about sending me to live with my uncle mike next year. or moving the whole family there if they can find jobs in athens. so i won't be the only athens neuter boy in my class.

obsidian14: that might be good for you. but i'd miss you.

scribbler371: i'd miss you too. and will, and arnie, even though arnie doesn't have much time for me lately with his new friends. all my friends are here.

obsidian14: so tell them you want to stay. even if you lose this fight with the principal and have to use the girls' rooms, that wouldn't be as bad as losing contact with all your friends, right?

scribbler371: ...probably not.

obsidian14: what's the worst that could happen?

scribbler371: i dunno. people get used to seeing me going in and out of the girls' restrooms and start thinking of me as a girl?

obsidian14: that bad, huh?

scribbler371: be serious!

obsidian14: i am.

scribbler371: but no, it could be worse. i didn't tell you yet about that wolf who threatened me monday

obsidian14: what???

scribbler371: in the guys' bathroom, monday afternoon. this wolf grabbed me and called me a girl, and bad names for girls, and asked if i wanted to have sex with him, and stuff. there were a couple of other wolves there, maybe his friends. one of them told him to leave me alone, and he did after a minute. the other was making fun of me too but didn't hit me or anything.

obsidian14: omg! what did the teachers do when you told them?

scribbler371: i didn't. i don't know the guys' names.

obsidian14: you've got to tell somebody next time.

scribbler371: sure, if they do worse than call me names.

obsidian14: even if it's just that. promise me.

scribbler371: i'm not sure it's a good idea. i don't want to get a reputation as somebody who runs to the teacher whenever something bad happens.

obsidian14: promise me. at least if they touch you, even slightly. much less grab you like that, or hit you.

scribbler371: ...okay. anyway, nothing that bad has happened since then. eventually i figure they'll get used to me, probably, and stop picking on me when they see i can take it like a man. but if i start using the girls' rooms like the principal wants...

obsidian14: some girls are going to pick on you too. call you a peeping tom or whatever.

scribbler371: yeah, and the guys, too, worse than before.

obsidian14: you just have to stand up to them, guys and girls both.

scribbler371: yeah.

obsidian14: in athens or hartwell the bullies wouldn't pick on you for the same reasons, but you'd have to make new friends from scratch. and you might get picked on for being new in town or being geeky or anything else.

scribbler371: yeah. might not be any better. i'd rather stay here.

obsidian14: i hope you do.

scribbler371: so, i told you i went to the doctor

obsidian14: yeah, they said you're getting better right?

scribbler371: yeah. the bruises are healing, and still no sign of a concussion. it was a routine physical, except. um.

obsidian14: ?

scribbler371: it was weird and embarrassing but i sort of want to talk to somebody about it and maybe you don't mind...?

obsidian14: what?

obsidian14: ...oh. i see.

scribbler371: so, yeah. the doctor poked around between my legs and muttered about how fascinating it was. i don't think she'd ever seen one of us before.

obsidian14: probably not. i haven't been to a doctor since the changes. i don't know if it's going to be worse or better than last time. i'm sure it was worse for you than usual.

scribbler371: yeah. it was like, i've gotten used to sitting down to pee and that doesn't bother me much anymore, i can still think of myself as a guy, but now my doctor is poking around inside me as if i were a girl, in ways she couldn't poke around if i were still a guy, and... i don't know.

obsidian14: you still act like a guy. that's the important thing, i think.

scribbler371: thanks.

obsidian14: and she couldn't poke around very deep, like she would on a real girl.

scribbler371: thank god. yeah, it could have been even worse.

obsidian14: don't i know it.

obsidian14: what i think is, we're something new, and we shouldn't let people tell us that we're girls or guys, or assume that we want to be girls or guys just because we used to be. but we can be if we want. it's cool if you want to keep being a guy, as much as being a guy is about how you act instead of what parts you have. does that make sense?

scribbler371: yeah. thanks, i needed to hear that.

obsidian14: it's like, the wolves can't digest anything but meat now. like we can't have kids. and for some of them, like vegetarians, that hurt a lot. but mostly, they haven't let that get them all depressed. and being wolves doesn't say who they are, it's not like all wolves have to be aggressive because they're carnivores or something.

scribbler371: yeah. i mean, lyndon and i didn't react to this thing the same way, and my uncle mike is different again, and all the other guys in athens or hartwell or in between reacted to it a little bit differently.

obsidian14: but it's not just reacting. it's deciding who you want to be.

scribbler371: yeah. -- i asked my doctor to write a letter to the principal saying i was still a guy inside -- in my head, you know what i mean -- and she said she wasn't sure she should, she's a family doctor and not a psychiatrist. or is it psychologist? but she wrote a letter to our insurance company saying maybe i should see one. one of those.

obsidian14: oh

scribbler371: she didn't say i was crazy or anything, just that it could be good if i talk to somebody like that about the way kids at school are treating me and stuff. i haven't gone to see one yet. mom and dad are figuring out who to send me to.

obsidian14: i hope that goes okay.

scribbler371: thanks.

TrismegistusShandy

Four of my novels and one short fiction collection are available from Smashwords in EPUB format and Amazon in Kindle format. Smashwords pays its authors better than Amazon.

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