Smells of sweet pastries and fresh coffee filled the cafe. Chris wrung his thumb and tapped his foot. A once-hot drink was on the table, which he only bought so he could sit down without being judged. The plan had failed. Nobody told him to leave but employees and other patrons would steal looks when they thought he wasn’t watching. Though, as long as they didn’t try and talk to him, he could manage.

He was waiting for someone important. Someone who he had never met in person but had been the main character in his life for the past two weeks. A person who had the same problems he had. They met through the internet, which wasn’t too rare in the modern day and age. An online forum for venting about life and struggles, filled with posts from people who hated being alive. When Chris read what they had to say, it struck a chord within him. For the first time, he understood that he wasn’t alone.

He reached out to them and soon they were messaging each other every day and agreed to meet in person. A man and a woman who hated their bodies. Who had both been strapped with families who wouldn’t let them take a single step out of what was expected from their sex.

“Chris?” A voice called out. “Is that you?”

She was already walking to his table before he responded. They had sent each other pics of themselves to make it easier to meet up, so Chris recognized her right away. Dark hair thrown into a ponytail, no makeup besides some mascara, a plain t-shirt, and a determined look in her eyes. It was definitely Stella.

Chris raised his hand and gave a pitiful wave to her. Through text he had been able to act how he wanted with her. He could relax and talk how he liked. In person, he didn’t know if he could handle it. He feared that she would hate him for how male he was in real life. Twenty years of being steered around by his parents left a scar he couldn’t shed. His father critiqued his speech and body language, his mother chose all of his clothes. They claimed to know what was best for him without even knowing him, and now he had to live with those choices and display them to the world. He hated that Stella’s first impression of him would be one his parents crafted.

“It’s good to see you,” he said as she sat down across from him. His hands were dampened with sweat. “Can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

Stella smiled before she spoke, “I know! It’s exciting.” She leaned in and the entire cafe seemed distant. Their table became an isolated place for them to talk without the rest of the world hearing. “You look nervous, is everything alright?”

Hearing her concern was all it took to ease Chris. She really did care about him despite only seeing each other for the first time seconds ago. “Well, I hate that you have to see me like this…” His posture was slouched and he found it hard to face her directly. As if doing so would be an endorsement of his appearance.

“Don’t worry,” Stella said. Her voice carried understanding; something previously foreign to him. “I know where you’re coming from. My dad will scream at me if I don’t wear makeup to work. Maybe one day we can meet under better circumstances. If it means anything to you, I think you have really pretty eyes.” The smile she gave him proved that she believed her words. It was warm and confident. She knew exactly what she felt and didn’t fear saying it.

Chris blushed, then felt embarrassed for even being affected by her words. “Oh come on,” he said. “It’s awkward when you say stuff like that when it isn’t true.”

“But it is true,” Stella said as a matter of fact. “You’re so pure and innocent that you can’t help it. Your eyes are pretty, just accept it. They’re fit for a princess.”

“No, see,” Chris stumbled over his words and let out a huff. “I don’t even make an effort to be feminine. I don’t deserve you saying those things about me because you know it’s what I want to hear. It makes me feel like an idiot, or a pervert.”

The sounds of the cafe bled back into Chris’ peripheral, destroying the safe bubble that had been established at their table. Every man in the building hated how weak Chris was compared to them, and every woman hated how envious he was of them. He felt that the entire day was a mistake. Of course Stella wouldn’t understand him. She was brave and could endure the harshness of the world, while Chris would be better off letting it crush him.

“Don’t talk like that,” Stella said. It was less of a reassurance and more of an order.

Her words did little to make him feel better, though they did refocus herself in the center. The safe realm of the table was appearing again.

“If you think that’s true about you, then what do you think about me?” She asked. “Am I a pervert? Or am I some lost little girl getting in over her head, suffering delusions of grandeur? Unless you’re prepared to say things like that to my face, don’t say them about yourself.”

Chris was surprised. Stella had shown some sternness before in their talks but hearing it in person, he wondered how she hadn’t already convinced her parents to let her transition. He muttered, “Sorry. I’ll be careful about what I say.”

“Good,” Stella said. Her serious tone had already faded back to something more cheerful. “Now, instead of us spending the whole day commiserating over who we are, tell me who you want to be.”

“Who I want to be?” Chris repeated. He thought for a moment. The question should have been an easy one. People planned for the future, and those plans typically aligned with who they wanted to be in said future. So what were his plans? “Well, to start. I want to finish college and make my parents proud–”

“No,” Stella said. “Who do you want to be? What if you could be anything, what would that look like?”

Unsure of what the woman sitting across from him wanted, Chris started to pick at the chipped edge of the table. “I guess I don’t know what you mean…” He said.

Stella sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Alright, well how about I go first?”

Chris nodded.

“I want to be important,” she said. “I want to be the type of person people dream about getting to meet, let alone being on the same level as. In my head it’s all so clear. I would be a man, call it the patriarchy if you want but I’d disagree. I’d love to be strong and tall and able to knock a guy out with a punch.” With each word, Stella got more and more excited. It must have been something she pondered on for a long time.

“That sounds… really intense,” Chris said.

“Not just that,” Stella continued, her eyes glowing with ambition. “I want a family. One where I’m the father. I would look after everyone and make enough money that my wife would never have to work and my children could go to any school in the world. My name and family would be a legacy. An empire, even.”

As she finished relaying her dream, her energy died down. The realization that the dream was only that began to set in.

“Of course, that’s a best case scenario.” She let out a sad laugh. “Obviously I’ll never even achieve a fraction of that.”

Chris was awestruck. He fully believed in everything Stella had said. Not only that she wanted it, but that she could accomplish all of it. Hearing her aspirations had ignited a new fire within him he didn’t know existed. He wanted to help her get that vision more than anything. To follow her through any road as long as it was with her. To help her.

“Stella…” Chris trailed off.

She looked weakened by him just saying her name. “And while we’re at it, I would have a different name. As much as I want to be an icon of success, I want a normal name that nobody would ever say is feminine Something definitively male. My parents should be jailed for giving me a name like ‘Stella.’ Like they had the right to assume I would be some girly doll for them. You got off easy with ‘Chris.’ Nobody has any expectations of who you’re supposed to be until they meet you.”

“Do you want me to call you something else?” Chris asked. “I guess my name isn’t super gendered but I’m still not a fan of it.”

Stella looked relaxed again, no longer the tense person she had become while rambling. “No, you don’t have to call me any special name. At least until I find a way to break away from the life I’m trapped in now.”

“Let me know if you do, alright?” Chris said. “But hearing what you said. It made so much sense to me. I get what your question was really asking now, about who I would be.”

“That’s good,” Stella said. She set her elbows on the table and rested her head on her palms. “I’d love to hear what the perfect ‘you’ would look like, Chris.”

“Well, I’ve wanted this since I was little, but my parents never allowed it. I want to do ballet. Not as a hobby. A fully trained ballerina.” Normally Chris would have started feeling ill talking about his true desires, with constant glances over his shoulder to make sure nobody was listening and ready to laugh at him. But with Stella, he found the ability to focus. “It’s obviously already too late for someone my age to become a real professional, but we’re talking about impossibilities here, right? Having that ability to move with disciplined grace and precision. I know it’s supposed to mess up your feet but I think I would take that trade. Though it’s hard to say since… I’ll never do it.” He had his own realizations sink in and melt away his vision.

“Keep going!” Stella said. And her encouragement helped.

“Okay, umm, yeah.” Chris regained his vision. “Like I said, ballerina. Or even any type of dancing. My parents think any form of expression like that would ruin me or something. They never really explained why, but what other reason would they have to never let me do anything I wanted? A positive outcome must have been in their minds somewhere.”

“Forget about your parents!” Stella lifted her head up and slid her arms toward him. “Just talk about you and what you want.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I want to be a dancer. And I want to… be a woman. A plain woman, a normal woman. I don’t need to look any certain way as long as I can have that. I hate the way I’m expected to embrace being a man because I was born that way. Having to be strong or I’m seen as a failure. Needing to shave my face every day. If my shoulders were thinner I wouldn’t complain. I would be less of a beast and more of a person.

“And I’d have a family too. I’d marry a man that I love and we would eventually have children together. If I couldn’t get any work dancing I would be fine to do office work. I’m part-way through an accounting degree, that could be of some use. Whatever the case, we would love each other. We would do whatever it took to keep our family happy and healthy. Nobody would ever say it was abnormal, or wrong. We would live regular, happy lives.”

***

 

Stella and Chris began to meet weekly. The location varied, sometimes that old cafe, other times a park or a restaurant. Whatever the case, they were both ecstatic to have found each other and hated their time apart.

Their second meeting went better than their first. They talked about childhood. How both of their parents had ridiculed them for being different from what was ‘natural.’ Stella had wanted to cut her hair short and play sports, Chris begged to do ballet and wear a dress he saw at the store. Of course the things they wanted, the things they craved to be allowed to do, were never granted to them. It was a cruel irony that they couldn’t help but laugh at when they realized that they each were forced to live the life the other had desperately dreamt of.

Eventually, as they got to know each other more and shared their frustrations and goals, the disappointment of reality became overbearing. The solace they had found in each other had begun to fade and their old outlooks came back stronger than ever.

It all culminated on the day that Chris waited for Stella on a bench, two months after their first meeting, their ninth overall. He was nervous for a few reasons. Namely, their last few meetings had ended on sour notes. One of them would end up more upset about the world than when they started and go home early while the other tried to act as a beacon of hope. It seldom worked.

The other reason for his anxiety that day was in his shoes. At Stella’s recommendation, he had bought and was wearing pink socks. Not even women’s socks, but pink socks. And truth be told he didn’t even like how they looked that much. It was intended to be an act of defiance against his parents. Stella had called him the only person in the country to have never worn pink. 

“Even old, crotchety, manly men have worn it at least once,” was what she had said.

As he sat down waiting for his friend to arrive, he hoped his plan would work. Stella had suggested the idea weeks prior, and seemed disappointed to learn he had never gone through with it. He did find it a bit depressing that he couldn’t even do something as small as that. And now that everything was headed south, he hoped it would be the positive boost they needed to get back to the happy versions of themselves that were born when they first met. Even their text conversations were dull and hopeless. Chris worried that if he couldn’t fix their friendship soon, he would forfeit all the progress he’d made and become his parents’ puppet once more.

Steady footsteps approached from his left, alerting Chris to the fast-approaching Stella. They exchanged a wave as she made her way toward him. He wasn’t sure how to place it, but she looked different that day. Not her clothes or hair, those were the same as always.

It was her face.

She looked baffled.

The entire time Chris had known her, she had been confident, happy, kind, assertive. Not once did she look unsure of things. Upset maybe but never unsure. It worried Chris.

“Is everything okay?” Chris asked when she reached him. “You look–”

“Chris,” Stella interrupted. Her voice was shaky, though not scared. As if she was excited to share big news but didn’t know if it was good or bad. “How badly do you want to be you? The you that we talked about, that we’ve been talking about?”

It was Chris’ turn to be baffled. He had expressed time and time again how badly he wanted that life he talked about with her. Why would she need to ask again so urgently?

“Probably anything short of killing someone,” Chris said. “And even then…” He whispered under his breath.

Stella didn’t miss a beat. “And what if it puts your own life at risk? Or you don’t even know if it would work or not but you know there’s a real chance at it?”

“Then, I might have to weigh how risky it is,” he said. “But, probably, I would still go for it. I’ll ask again, is everything okay?”

“I don’t know if I’m being pranked, or set up, or involved in some conspiracy, but something remarkable happened to me this morning.” She took Chris’ hand in hers and continued. “An old friend of mine, we met a long time ago in a program my mom signed me up for to ‘fix my rebellious phase.’ She can walk.”

Chris didn’t say anything. “Could she… not walk before?”

“No!” Stella yelled with glee. “She got in an accident and has been paralyzed from the waist down since!”

“But she’s better now?” Chris was unsure why Stella seemed so happy while describing a tragedy.

“Yes! This morning, she called me and asked to meet and she can walk around like nothing ever happened and it was incredible!” Stella was running out of breath from her sustained yelling.

“Sounds… like a miracle?”

“It is! It was. It could be again.”

Chris was understanding Stella less and less. Had she finally snapped? He considered lifting his pant leg to show off his new socks before she started speaking again.

“Chris,” she said. “Someone healed her. They did something that had never been done before and changed her life.”

“What’s your point? I’m happy for her but it’s not like I knew her at all.”

“My point is that she told me the man that did it is looking for people. Like us.” She squeezed his hands tight. “Anyone who wants to change their body no matter the risks.”

“What?” Chris tugged his hands away from hers. “What could healing someone’s paralysis have to do with us?”

“My friend said the guy was ‘expanding the use’ of his methods or something. Honestly I don’t know a whole lot, she said that if I wanted details I would have to go to this address later today.” She pulled a folded yellow sticky note out of her pocket. “And she said I could bring someone else, so... I want you to come with me, Chris. I’ll drive us there right now.”

He had to stop for a moment. A second to catch his breath and think. If it was really possible, which he still wasn’t convinced to be true, then the life he had always dreamed of could become a reality. No more pretending to be the son his parents groomed him to be, no more averting his gaze from the mirror whenever he shaved his face. Hell, no more shaving his face in general! At least not every day. He wondered how much change was possible.

Of course, that would be insane. If it even was possible, changing himself in that way would mean losing his parents forever. A life without family. It was why he hadn’t started taking hormones or trying to transition in any way. For him, it wasn’t ever going to be an option.

“I don’t know, Stella,” he said. “That address could be anywhere and who knows what could happen. Maybe it’s some human trafficking thing we need to report to the police!”

Stella grinned. “Do you think I did zero research? I looked up the address online and it’s just some house outside of town. And if we do get kidnapped or murdered, I set up an email to contact the police, a family member, and two local journalists with the address after twenty four hours if I’m not there to stop it.”

He was starting to think that she had lost her grip on reality and gone insane. “Wow, that’s…” Chris stopped speaking when he saw Stella’s eyes. That determined look she had when they first met was back. Even if it meant going into a serial killer’s house, she would get what she wanted or die trying. That’s what she meant by risk. She really would do anything. If he couldn’t keep up, she would leave him in the dust.

“Alright, I’ll come with you,” Chris said.“And if we end up dying, at least we can be done with this shit life.”

Stella’s smile intensified. “That’s great! I feel like today is going to be amazing.” She retook Chris’ hands and pulled him up from the bench. “And we won’t die. I promise that I’ll keep you safe, okay? As long as we’re together, you’ll be happy.”

That was new to Chris. His parents had promised he would be successful, to be worthy, to be high status, as long as he followed them. But they never promised him safety. Nor comfort or happiness. He wanted to wrap Stella in a hug and let her know all of that. Instead, he followed her to the car.

 

***

 

The garage was open when they arrived. The driveway leading to it was short but wide, with a few cars already parked in it. Inside, Chris could make out a large man sitting on a tiny folding chair. Next to him was a mini fridge and a small bin overflowing with cans.

As Stella pulled into the driveway, finding a nice spot alongside the other cars, the man didn’t seem phased. He looked at them, saw them, and took a sip from an open can he lifted from the floor.

“A bodyguard?” Chris asked.

Stella set the car into park. “Looks more like a bouncer,” she said. “See? I feel safer already, knowing someone is on lookout.”

The two stepped out of the car, Chris mumbling his concerns to himself. On the walls of the garage, posters from different movies and bands of the last three decades covered the walls. Like it was at one point a place where teenagers would sit and drink stolen beers from their parents’ fridge while listening to music on full volume. That idea made Chris feel a bit safer. A vision of something normal happening in a place that promised to be weird.

In a drowsy, uninterested voice, the man asked, “Two of you?”

“Yup,” Stella replied before Chris could. She sounded calm, relaxed. Like they hadn’t considered the fact they might be killed on the ride over. “Is that a problem?”

The man sighed and looked her up and down. Then he did the same for Chris. “Nope,” he said, standing up and walking toward the inner door that led to the house. He reached toward a shelf that had a plastic basket and held it in front of the door. “Put your phones in here first. You’ll get ‘em back when you leave.”

Chris and Stella did as they were told, forfeiting their only line to the outside world. Reality began to set in for Chris. He peered through the doorway to see if he could catch a glimpse of anyone else. One of the owners of the other cars in the driveway, other volunteers perhaps. Maybe even the mysterious doctor Stella had mentioned. Instead, all he saw was a dim hallway with some pieces of paper taped to the walls.

Stella was about to step inside. If Chris was going to back out, he knew it was his last chance. Unfortunately, he knew it would end their friendship once and for all. The embarrassment could be endured, but losing Stella in his life didn’t seem possible.

They entered the house.

Inside, a strange smell of oiled machines and weak air freshener filled the air. The papers stuck on the wall directed them down the hall toward a closed door. Red light seeped out from beneath it, occasionally flickering off but always coming right back. No noise could be heard other than a dull buzz. On the door was a small note, merely saying, “Knock twice.”

Chris, growing more nervous by the moment, said, “So I guess we just–”

Before he could finish speaking, Stella knocked on the door. Two hearty thumps on the cheap wood, enough that anyone in the room would be able to hear it and not mistake it for anything other than a person.

Stella stared on ahead, any unease or fear long dissipated from her expression. Chris wanted her to look at him again, to share her strength and confidence with him. He shifted his weight back and forth, left and right, as footsteps approached from the other side.

The door swung open, filling the hall with scarlet light. Standing in the door frame was a calm, lanky man, who couldn’t have been much older than Chris or Stella. He had long straight hair and a few days worth of stubble on his face. The only thing that clued off Chris to him being the scientist was his lab coat, which looked a size or two smaller than he needed.

In his head, Chris had been picturing an old man with gray hair and oversized glasses. Instead he was looking at a surfer who got lost on his way to the beach.

“Cool,” the man said, his voice relaxed. “That’s probably enough people.”

“Is this the…” Chris tried to ask if they were at the right house, before realizing he had no idea what to call any of it. “...Place?”

The man nodded and stepped back. “I seriously doubt you could have ended up here by accident. Come on, sit down. I want to get this thing moving.”

“Great,” Stella said. She walked into the room without a second thought.

Chris couldn’t bring himself to follow. He poked his head in to look at what they were about to face. The room was small, perhaps meant to be a bedroom if it were owned by a normal person. In the center were a dozen folding chairs cramped into a half-circle where Stella took a seat.

That’s when Chris noticed the other people. Most of the chairs were filled, with only a couple of empty seats left. None of the strangers seemed interested in him. They looked up to get a glimpse of him but went back to staring at the floor. None of them spoke to each other. Chris wondered if he and Stella were the only ones to not come alone.

Stella patted the empty chair next to her. “Come on, Chris.”

He did as she said. On the way to his seat, he was able to take in more of the room. The red lights shining down made it hard to determine the specific color of anything. There were more posters on the wall, similar to the garage. Chris assumed the man must have lived here for a while before turning the house into his lab. Along the walls were tables of mismatching height, each one covered in newspapers, glass vials, and machine parts.

The door closed, and the man walked to the front of the room. All of the chairs were arranged to face an old metal desk which he was now standing behind.

“Alright,” he said. His gaze was aimed at a folder in his hands. “So let’s get the hard part out of the way first. Anyone have any questions? Concerns?”

An old man on the other side of the room raised his hand then spoke. “What are the lights red for? It’s giving me a headache.”

The scientist groaned. “It helps me think. Shut up.”

With a huff, the old man slumped down in his chair.

Another hand popped up, this time a middle-aged woman. Chris thought she looked similar to a teacher he once had. Collected demeanor, kind eyes, obese. It was lost on him how an average woman like that could end up in a place so terrifying.

“Yes,” she said. “Is this safe? I have kids at home and–”

“It’s completely safe,” the scientist said. “I’m hoping. Nothing tragic has happened so far. Well… Nah, that doesn’t count. It’s safe.”

The woman did not seem satisfied, but remained seated.

Stella was the next one to speak. She didn’t bother raising her hand, before asking, “Who are you? What can you do for us?”

A few swallows could be heard from around the room, including Chris.

“Right.” The scientist set down his folder. “I’m going to use my technology to help you all change yourselves. In return, you’re all going to keep incredibly quiet about all of this and act as data points for me. Call me whatever you’d like, ‘scientist’ or ‘doctor’ work, though they’re a little uninventive. Oh, my name’s Sawyer, I suppose you could call me that.”

“Change us how?” A new voice spoke. Chris looked over and saw the short man who had asked. “You’re not gonna make us freaks or something, right?”

Sawyer shrugged. “However you want to be changed. Can’t recommend going outside the realm of what’s natural for a human but I won’t stop you. I don’t really care, though a variety would be great for my data. Really hoping you can be my final test group.”

“How long have you been doing this?” The woman from before asked.

“Hmm,” Sawyer set one of his elbows on the desk. “You would all be my fifth group of volunteers, which means about seven years? Yeah, seven.”

Chris was taken aback. He assumed the man was in his early twenties, was that incorrect? Or did he really start working as some mad scientist as a teenager? He pushed down the urge to ask.

“When can we start?” Stella asked.

“We can start now! But, you’ll need to sign some papers. A lot of papers.” Sawyer knelt behind the desk as the sound of papers shuffling and cabinets opening rang through the room.

The short man stood up. “Now hold on, I’m not signing anything until I know what the hell is actually happening!”

Sawyer seemed excited at the man’s demand. “You want to know about my tech?”

Everyone nodded, some mumbling agreement and some outright saying “yes.” For the first time, the entire room was on the same page.

And then, Sawyer started speaking.

Chris tried to follow along the best he could. Science was never his best subject, though. The words the scientist said weren’t clicking in his brain. Most of the others seemed lost as well. Stella wasn’t confused, though. Whether she knew what he was talking about or not was impossible to tell, as she was engrossed by everything he said. At the very least, Chris knew he could ask her for a recap afterward. And it meant one of them knew if it was safe or not.

The parts Chris did comprehend was that it would be painful. They would need a procedure done to put a chip or plate in their arms, and that would be followed with dozens of injections over the course of a month. Only then could they reap the benefits.

But the benefits…

If Chris was understanding him right, they would be worth the risk. Worth all the pain and waiting. His impossible dream could exist. It could be real.

After the lengthy explanation, Stella’s eyes were dazzling through the harsh red light. “Well let’s get started. I’ll sign.”

“No way,” the short man said. “Sorry but I’m not letting you put some weird shit in my arm. None of this is worth it, and if you all wanna risk your lives for this nutcase then fine, but I’m not.” He walked to the door and left without another word.

The room was silent for a moment after he was gone. Everyone was contemplating if they would leave too. Everyone except for Stella.

“Should you be worried about him?” Chris asked. “What if he calls the cops or something? I feel like even if we sign some forms, this can’t be legal...”

Sawyer, who had gathered a stack of papers and was passing them out, didn’t look worried. “Don’t worry, this is all mostly legal. A few important people want their hands on this stuff if it ends up working out, so the police won’t bother me.”

“Oh,” Chris said. A new fear appeared to him with what the doctor said. Even if something did go wrong and happen to them, would it all be covered up?

He wasn’t able to stew in his worry long, as Sawyer handed him his set of forms. Being the last to get his, Chris looked around. Stella was the only one going through the papers. Everyone else seemed unsettled.

Sawyer walked back to the front of the room and exhaled. “Now, if you can sign the first three pages today, we can get the chip procedure done today. It’s not as painful as it sounds! Your arm will have its full range of motion back within a month.”

The woman who had asked about safety earlier set her papers down on the floor before apologizing under her breath and leaving. The old man tapped his foot and held his hand to his face, where Chris noticed a large, dark scar going across. Chris figured his eyes hadn’t been used to the light earlier, or the old man had been turned too far to the side to catch a glimpse of it before.

Others in the room looked at Stella, now at one of the side tables using a stray pen she found, signing everything away without hesitation.

Chris approached her. He was worried that she was too tunnel visioned on the end goal. It was their dream but if they died in the process then what would be the point? A part of him also wanted to remind her that he existed. She hadn’t looked at him once since they entered the room.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Are you sure about all of this? If you want to back out–”

“I’m sure,” was all she said, without taking her eyes off the documents. “What’s this back page?” She asked in Sawyer’s direction.

“Oh, that I don’t need until the chip is in,” he said. “It lists all the possible changes I can accommodate for. And if it’s marked with an exclamation point it means it hasn’t been tried on humans yet, so choose it at your own risk.”

Stella smirked.

Chris stood watching as she signed her name for the final time and at last turned to him. She looked different. He was used to her being confident but for the first time he saw a hunger in her eyes.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, guiding his hands to the table, “I’m so glad we’re experiencing this together.” She handed him the pen. “If you’re too scared to sign then I understand. Not everyone is willing to risk everything for their dream. And maybe some people have stronger dreams than others! I won’t think less of you if you don’t sign.”

He was scared. He did want to leave and forget about Sawyer, the house, everything. But he didn’t want to forget about Stella. With a quivering hand he signed the first signature line.

 

***

 

The familiar cafe had never felt more foreign. Chris and Stella were sitting at their usual table, poring over the final page of the document they received earlier in the week. It held everything they wanted. It could change them however they saw fit.

Stella had already finished hers before meeting at the cafe. In all likelihood she finished it the second she was home from Sawyer’s house-lab-thing. Chris knew the type of person she was, how meticulously she had pictured her ideal self. He had done the same thing, but he wanted to fill it out by Stella’s side. She saw the big picture better than him and could help out if he was missing something.

The form had everything Chris wanted. It could change his sex, that was the big one for them, and so much more. Height, weight, eye and hair color, proportions like leg length and shoe size. Age was the only option Chris wondered about that wasn’t listed, though he figured that was for the better.

“I don’t think I should go too short,” Chris said. “Everyone in my family is pretty tall so I don’t want to stick out.”

Stella hummed a flat note. “Well I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said. “And will your family even talk to you after everything? Maybe you could go a little shorter, as a statement, ya know? Rebelling against fitting in with them.”

Chris didn’t think it was a big deal either way and went along with her suggestion. The idea of standing up to his parents did feel enticing…

“Perfect,” Stella said as she saw him write down his new planned height.

A waitress walked by, bringing with her a slight gust that shifted the page. Chris clung to his shoulder reflexively. He was still getting used to having a piece of metal in his arm, always with him. Wearing longer sleeves was the only way he could stop from feeling paranoid about everyone noticing it. Sawyer told them some easy excuses to use but he still didn’t want to bring any unwanted attention to himself.

“Does it hurt?” Stella asked.

“A little bit, but it gets better each day. How is yours?”

Stella lifted up her sleeve, showing it off for anyone passing by to see. Chris was thankful that nobody was looking.

“It’s great,” she said. “I think it looks cool, like a hardcore tattoo.”

“Stella,” Chris said through clenched teeth. “Don’t show people that.”

She rolled her eyes and covered it back up. “It’s fine, people will think it’s some medical procedure and feel bad for staring if they see it. And don’t call me Stella anymore.”

“Oh, sorry, what should I be calling you?”

“I think I’m gonna go with ‘Jacob.’ I like how simple it is.” She leaned back over Chris’ document, looking eager to finish it. “Or go with ‘Jackie’ until the changes get made so strangers don’t get confused. Anything but ‘Stella’ will do.”

“Okay, yeah,” Chris said. “I like simple names, I think they’re nice. I approve, Jackie.”

“You don’t have to pick a simple name if you don’t want! I think you could have a beautiful, elegant name to fit your new self.”

“Well I don’t mind it. I actually have one I liked a lot…”

Jackie smiled at him. “What is it?”

“Like I said, it’s nothing special, I want to just blend in,” Chris said. Despite all they had been through, he still didn’t want Stella, Jacob, or Jackie to think he was lame. “Anne. I like that name.”

“Anne, huh,” Jackie said. “Yeah I can see it. Or maybe something pretty like ‘Annabelle’ or ‘Annette’ could work too.”

“Sure, I suppose.” Chris liked the name he chose but didn’t see the point in taking away her fun. He put his pen back to the form. “I don’t mind staying brunette.”

Jackie put her hand on the page. “That would be fine but hear me out, Annie.”

Chris blushed. “Don’t– Just– Please call me Chris until I’ve actually changed. I don’t deserve a new name for now.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Jackie said. “But I think blonde would suit you a lot better than this dingy brown you have now. A rich golden color would be gorgeous on you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. I mean, why leave so many things the same? Be who you really want to be!” She set her hands on Chris’ and looked into his eyes. “You want to be beautiful, right? Then I say go all the way! Besides, the guy said we can make adjustments later down the line.”

Chris thought back to his dreams of ballet. His childhood goal of being graceful and elegant. That was a part of beauty, wasn’t it?

“You’re right, I’ll go with that,” Chris said. He checked the box for blonde and smiled at Jackie. “I can’t believe any of this is happening to us.”

“I know,” Jackie said. “It feels like fate. We’re so lucky to have met each other.”

Chris agreed and looked for the next box to fill.