As we settled into our assigned seating, I found myself unable to concentrate on the massive screen to which we were beholden. I frantically toyed with the hem of my skirt, staring down at my lap but not looking. My mind swam, rife with a thousand embryonic thoughts, fighting desperately to dominate, to gain purchase in my limited brainpower. The formless ideas wrestling in my consciousness were too incomplete, and too many to name, which wasn't a bother to me. I had a feeling they were dangerous, that if I knew the road my brain was struggling hungrily down, it would only serve to cause further panic.

This is hopeless, you aren't going to get anywhere like this. Focus. *Focus*. Focus on your breathing, slow and steady, breathing in and out. Feel the air enter and exit your lungs, visualise the bronchioles inflating and deflating, sending vital oxygen to your heart. Focus on that, and let all the half-formed thoughts fall by the wayside. Quiet your uneasy mind as best you can.

Don't think about it. Don't think about anything. Just sit back, and let the movie wash over you. You'll have plenty of time to think later.

Later came sooner than expected, as entirely without my consent, the movie was over. As we pried ourselves from the now too-comfortable seats, I tried to recall a single thing that had happened on-screen. I drew a blank. I had been so focused on not freaking out that I had retained exactly none of the movie we had come here to see. We grouped back together in the lobby, ostensibly to share thoughts on the film we had just seen, but the air was fraught with tension. Isabelle and Leah both looked stiff, keenly aware of the awkwardness, but Alice was either unaware or unbothered. She stared directly at me, through me, eyes like daggers piercing into my soul. The worst of it was the sweetness of her smile, the kind that betrayed no ill intent whatsoever.

This was a standoff that showed no signs of breaking on its own, which left me with no choice but to intervene. "Soooo, what did everyone think of the movie?"

Alice lunged at that like a shark smelling blood in the water. "I thought it was very interesting. A powerful treatise on femininity and what it means to be a woman in our society."

Isabelle took that as an opportunity to divert the conversation away from the elephant I was sure was in the room, yet couldn't identify. "It was too corporate for my taste. They tried to slip in as much subversion and satire as they could, but you can still feel the movie being driven by Mattel's bottom line."

"I think that's definitely a fair criticism. I feel like even despite that, it has a lot to say about gender, and the patriarchy." Alice and Isabelle kept trading remarks, working their way towards synthesis. Meanwhile, Leah was staring at me. Not the piercing, soul-rending kind of stare that Alice had been employing, but a gentler, softer gaze. She was looking at me as if she was seeing me for the first time. I felt exposed, naked, more so than under Alice's ferocity. Leah wasn't looking into my soul, she was looking at all of me, the summation of my being. What was she seeing?

She interrupted Isabelle making a reference to the works of Jacques Lacan (whoever that was), and spoke. "Penny," She said the name like it held great power, like it was sacred. "May I have a word?" She thrust her thumb to the other side of the room, and I followed. When we were safely out of earshot, she asked, "How are you holding up? Are you..." She stopped to consider her phrasing. "Are you handling everything alright?"

"Yes? I'm doing totally fine! Why do you ask?"

"Do you... like it?" Her eyes were wide, inquisitive.

"The movie? I think so! It was good!"

She giggled. "No, not the movie, silly. Being Penny."

What? Being... Penny? But- No. I couldn't. This was a trick, wasn't it? To get me to say I did enjoy it, to catch me out in sin. To find me guilty, of being wrong, of making a mockery of trans people, of having some gross perversion that made me enjoy pretending to be a girl. I wouldn't fall for it. "I'm still me, under all this make-up and padding. Penny isn't, like, a real person. It's just for this stupid punishment."

She frowned. Wrong answer. Why was it the wrong answer? I was being a good boy, I was ignoring the deep, festering need within me to keep dressing like this, to keep this punishment game going, to keep being Penny, even if she was fake. That was what she wanted from me, wasn't it?

"You know I love you, right?" Before I could reply, she continued, placing a hand on my shoulder, "And I'll always love you. No matter what." Why was she saying this? Why couldn't she just leave this alone? I looked over to where Isabelle and Alice were waiting, in a vain hope they were headed over to interrupt us, only to catch them passionately making out, pressed against the wall. Good for them.

I must have been staring, because Leah followed my eye-line, and saw the same thing I did. "One sec," she said, and marched over without hesitation. Whatever reprimand she gave, it worked, as they quickly pried themselves separate, each gave Leah a hug, and hurriedly absconded, hand in hand. "Sorry about that. They're relentless."

"It's okay!" I brushed a strand of hair from my face, trying to dispel the awkwardness. "We should probably get going too, then, if it's just the two of us."

"Sounds good to me! How would you feel about going out to dinner?"

"I'd love to!" It had been far too long since our last proper date. I glanced down, remembering my outfit. "We should probably go home to get changed first..."

She put on a seductive smirk. "I don't know about that," she purred, running a finger up my stomach, "I think you look wonderful as is."

I felt a heat in my cheeks. "B-b-but..." No. This was a trick. She was trying to get me to admit I liked this. I tried very hard to steady my voice, to sound assertive. "No. We went to see the movie. The punishment is over. I don't feel like going out any more."

The bus ride back from the theatre was sullen. I had to keep avoiding my reflection, lest it ruin my bad mood. Neither of us said a word until we'd arrived back home.

"I love you." My voice was tentative, weak. I was angry, but I still loved her, and I needed her to know that.

"I love you too." Her voice was stronger than mine, and it was an assertion, a reminder just as much as mine was.

Wordlessly, I started taking off the outfit. My jacket was thrown halfheartedly towards my closet, and her clothes were placed neatly in the hamper. When I was down to just underwear, I took the time to inspect my mostly-naked body. It hurt to look at, but I had to. I needed to remind myself of who I was, the person I was supposed to be.

I took myself to the mirror, to see my face, to give myself an even more searing reminder, but was shocked to discover I was still wearing make-up. I still looked like a decent enough approximation of a girl. It made me yearn, which fed into anger. I grabbed a flannel, wet it and grated it across my face, clearing away the artifice that made me look presentable, pretty even.

I tore the flannel from my face, and stared my reflection down. This is what I looked like. This was my face. My fate. The asshole in the mirror was crying. What a weakling. I pulled myself away from the mirror, into the bedroom, onto the bed. I wept, like a child. Leah was there, suddenly and far too late. She was cradling me in her arms, a sobbing wreck. God, I was pathetic. A failure of a man. I told her as much, I think. We sat there for a while, hours or minutes. When I had regained enough composure to push myself out of her arms, I stared up and looked at her, expecting nothing more than pity.

Leah considered me as if I were a puzzle she'd been trying to solve for several years, one that she'd recently given up on and taken a peek at the box. She wasn't just looking at me any more, she was understanding me. She was putting my pieces together in a way I wasn't capable. I needed to know what she knew.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I cringed internally, immediately regretting my turn of phrase.

"Not quite," she said, the hint of a smile breaking through her concern, "Penny on my thoughts."

"What?"

"I'm thinking about Penny." Penny? As in, the fake name I was using earlier today? The girl I was pretending to be? Why was she thinking about her? God, I was ridiculous, getting jealous of a girl who didn't exist and was kind-of-sort-of-maybe me.

"What about her?" My voice was hoarse, and raw, from crying.

"I like her."

"Wh-"

"I like her a whole lot. She's like you, but happier." She tapped a finger to my heart. "I'd like to see more of her, if it's at all possible."

"Wh- Bu- But. She isn't real?"

Leah looked at me, into me, eyes sparkling. "She could be."

Something deep inside me stung. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Leah rolled her eyes, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "You could be Penny. Like today, just, more."

I couldn't do that. What she didn't understand, of course, is that something like that was impossible. But why? It's not like there was anything wrong with it. I had long since spat out the transphobic drivel that I'd been fed as a child, and I knew better than to pretend I thought it was ethically unsound. I frantically searched my feelings, looking for an excuse, some perfect rule that made me an exception, why it was okay for anybody else to pursue that, just not me.

I drew a blank. "I... could be Penny?"

"I have a feeling," Leah winked, "You already are."