Disclaimer: Unsurprisingly, I do not own Degrassi or anything Degrassi-related.

Blood Brothers

"Your room is very cozy," Fiona says warmly, smiling as she takes it all in: the band posters, the sports trophies, the video games, the fantasy books lining my bookshelves.

"Thanks," I say nervously, hoping there's no sign of Gracie around that I've forgotten about. No, that's more likely in the other parts of the house, and for that reason I purposely hustled Fiona directly to my room – Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, Go Directly To Jail.

"Maybe next time we can go to my place," she continues, flopping herself down in a beanbag chair in the corner. "I mean, not that this isn't nice or anything. But, you know...no adults." She grins.

I perch anxiously on the edge of the bed, trying to look natural. "So...you live alone, right?"

"Yup." Fiona smiles proudly. "I mean, it gets lonely sometimes, but I like having my own space. You know?" She regards me seriously. "Sometimes I just feel like when other people are around, even my family, I can't be myself...at least without being judged."

"Yeah, I totally know what you mean," I reply, my heart quickening. "Living with my family, my bedroom is my sanctuary, but it's also my prison. It's the place I go to get away, but I also feel trapped here sometimes, like my true self isn't welcome in the other spaces of the house."

Fiona nods slowly, looking right into my eyes. "Wow. Yeah. I've felt that way. A lot." She pauses. "All my life people have called me a Drama Queen – rightfully so, at times. But it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know? When I'm alone I can express myself without fear of reprimand...or an unflattering picture in some tabloid." She giggles, but I see her eyes are kind of sad. I want to reach out and touch her...I want to make things better for her. I want to take care of her. She's so beautiful...she deserves someone who understands.

I'm caught up in my fantasy thoughts and don't realize that silence has enshrouded us for a few moments. She swallows suddenly and pops out of the beanbag chair. "Er, where's the washroom?" she asks.

"I'll show you," I say immediately, again hoping to avoid any illicit pictures of Gracie that might be hanging on the walls.

Fortunately the washroom is just a few feet from my bedroom door. Still, I usher her in, glancing around nervously.

"Thanks," she smiles, then quickly closes the door in my face. I stand there waiting, looking out the window, daydreaming. I have this beautiful girl in my house, in my bedroom; I think she likes me, and why shouldn't she? The nice guy, of course I'm the nice guy, because I'm the one who gets picked on, the one who's misunderstood. What else could I be but nice when others aren't nice to me?

And she's a bit ditzy at times, but I think it's an act, I'm sure it's an act, especially after what she just told me about being herself when she's alone. I have a gift to see beneath the surface...but I wonder, can she see beneath mine?...

I wonder when I should tell her, how I should tell her. I don't want to mislead her. But I'm a guy, pure and simple – so if she thinks I'm a guy, I'm not lying, right? I'm being my true self. Others only see me for the freaky girl-turned-guy; they only ever see that there's something not right with me. But now I can be my whole self and never waver. In fact, why am I being so nervous around her? There's nothing to worry about! She likes me for me!

I glance at the clock and realize it's been a full five minutes. She sure knows how to make a guy sweat – in pleasurable anticipation, of course. Finally my Fiona emerges, and I gather up all my courage to smile widely and sincerely at her beautiful face. But she greets my smile with just a sheepish, worried look. "I think I should go home now," she says, screwing up her expression in apology.

"Oh no, why?" I ask, aware I'm kind of whining.

She looks warily from side to side like a criminal about to divulge the location of her hide-out. Then she whispers, "I got my period."

Ohhhhhhh. "Well that's okay," I say immediately. "Do you need a pad or tampon?"

"Exactly," she replies. "And I'm guessing I might need to go home to get one."

"Oh, no, we have some under the sink," I say without thinking, then want to beat my head against the wall. She looks at me quizically and I rush to explain: "My mom."

"Oh! Okay then."

I duck into the washroom and open the cabinet door. "So what's your pleasure?"

"I think a pad would be best for now," she states frankly.

I smile and grab one, a medium-sized one. "You can take whatever you need, though," I say, leaving it on the counter.

"Thanks!" is her reply as she shuts the door once more.

Whew! That was a close one. It's weird, I think, because my period started today too. I remember reading that females who live together and are close in that way often have their feminine cycles in tune with each other. It's kind of a cool coincidence that Fiona and I should be bleeding at the same time. And I'm impressed with how calm she was about it. Her wariness was only for show, a little bit of the Drama Queen she permits shining through. So cute!

We don't talk as we return to my bedroom, but once she's arranged back in the beanbag chair and I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor before her, I ask, "So, comfortable now?"

"Very," she confirms. "Well, could be better, I suppose. Usually I use cloth pads because my skin is very sensitive. So hopefully the plastic won't bother me."

"Hm, I haven't heard of that before. That sounds cool."

Fiona throws back her head in laughter. "You say it so calmly and coolly, Adam. I wouldn't expect you to have heard of it; what guy takes any time to know anything about what life is like for girls?"

I nod. "I know, I know. I just...care, I guess. Um, maybe you should go home if you think that this pad might bother you...Don't worry, I'd understand."

"No, it's okay," she says. "At least for now. I'll let you know if I need to go. But I like being here talking with you."

My heart flutters. "Me too," I say quietly.

After a moment she continues on the previous topic. "Yeah, most guys really couldn't understand what it's like to have your period. Not that they even try."

"I've heard my brother say he thinks it's disgusting," I chime in, remembering the many times he said it directly to me.

Fiona looks straight at me. "And what do you think, Adam?"

I glance away and speak only slowly when I do speak. "I think...maybe...I think some guys could understand. If a girl is open about it then it might make the guy more comfortable. If she was willing to help him understand, then maybe he would be willing to learn." I cringe inwardly as I realize I'm actually talking about me telling her and helping her understand about my...situation.

"And are you willing to learn?" Her questions are always so direct and intense!

I gulp. "I'll listen to anything you want to share with me, Fiona." Then without warning I take the plunge. "But I already understand more than you know."

She cocks her head. "Oh? How is that?"

Can't she hear my heart beating to get out of my chest? It's practically screaming for release! Am I really going to do this? Am I really going to tell her? But I'd already decided I wouldn't, that I was being my true self...

But my true self is a guy in a girl's body. Yes, I feel like I should have a guy's body and it brings a crazy new meaning to "sexually frustrated." But the fact is I don't have a guy's body. This girl's body is a part of me even if I don't like it; it's a part of me for now. And eventually it will be this body that I alter; I won't be getting a whole new body, and I'll still have my female parts, to a degree. They'll just be changed. If I really like her and expect this to go somewhere, I have to be open with her...open, direct, intense. Like she is with me.

"You might want to sit down for this..."

She smiles and gestures, demonstrating that she's already comfortably seated.

"Oh...right..." Direct, Adam! Direct!

I take a deep breath and hold it there. Then I spew out the words as I exhale: "I understand because I have a period right now."

Pink creeps into Fiona's cheeks, but otherwise her light-hearted expression doesn't change. "Tell me what you mean?" she ventures.

"I guess I'll give you the labels," I say, looking away again. "I'm a female-to-male pre-op trans person. A guy in a girl's body. Some say a freak. Actually, far too many say a freak."

Fiona perfectly keeps her cool as she reaches out and puts a long-fingered hand on what now seems like my tiny and thin, all-too-feminine forearm. "You were worried about telling me this, weren't you, Adam?"

"Well yes, of course..." I trail off.

"Sweetie, I'm from New York. Don't you think I've seen it all?"

"Um..." Now I feel bad for thinking she might not accept me!

"I've seen a lot, anyway, and I know one thing for sure: there is no normal. I guess everyone's a freak in their own way. I know I am. And I'm okay with it. My question for you is: are you okay with you?"

Tears spring to my eyes and I feel her hand gripping me now. As the wetness takes to my cheeks Fiona draws me into a hug. Should I feel embarrassed when my snot hits her shoulder or will she be okay with that too? I almost laugh. But instead I launch into a tear-stained speech that's been waiting to get out.

"It's just so hard, because...the answer is no, I'm not okay with myself...How can I love myself when I'm in the wrong body? And how can I love myself when everyone else hates me? My mom even hates me, she hates Adam; I know she's trying, but it's Gracie she loves in her heart; and God, what a blow to my ego that the only reason I scrape by at school without having any death-threats followed through with is because I have an older brother who is bigger and stronger than me to protect me. I'm supposed to be a man, but I can't even protect myself, I can't even fight my own battles! And in my underwear I'm bleeding all over the place; I'm just a girl with a dirty curse, but even worse, I'm a girl who's a guy inside."

Fiona can only rub my back sympathetically as my sobs rack my cold body against her warm body. She remains silent and lets me finish crying, which takes a good five minutes. Finally I pull back from her hug and wipe my eyes. I do laugh a little in relief when I see the concerned look on her face, and she half-smiles in return.

"Adam," she says softly, "I'm not sure there's much I can say to make you feel better, but I'll give you my girl-in-girl's-body perspective, and maybe it will help you to see things from a different point of view."

I nod, sniffling and still wiping my face off to try to regain some dignity.

"First of all, your period is not a curse. Even if you are a boy. Have you heard of Thomas Beatie?"

I shake my head.

"He's the world's first transgendered man to give birth to a child. And this happened just recently."

"You mean he's FTM? Post-op? And he still gave birth?"

Fiona nods. "Yeah. Of course. How special is that? He can be the man he wants to be, but still experience a very sacred part of himself from the parts of his female body."

"But he must have had a male partner, then...And I...well, I like girls." I blush hotly.

She nods again with complete composure. "He actually has a wife. They chose to go with artificial insemination."

I sit back against the bed and take it all in. I vaguely hear Fiona talking in the background...

"See, you can love yourself for all the parts of you. You may not have all the parts you want to have yet, but you're going to be so full, so complete – you're going to be a full-blown man with the good fortune of being female as well. And as for not thinking you're 'man' enough, well what could be stronger than going through a cycle of cart-wheeling emotions month after month? In fact, if you just got your period and now you're letting loose all your emotions, that's probably because of your cycle that you can have so much release. Would you really want to be a man and have those emotions so difficult to get out? And in Thomas's case, what could possibly be stronger than giving birth? And furthermore –"

Smiling hard, I shake my head at her unending kindness, and cut her off. Time to be more direct than ever. "Fiona, do you like girls?"

Finally I think I've caught her off guard. The pink in her face rises to red. And she takes a very long time before answering cautiously.

"I think I could like girls...but for whatever you want to call yourself, Adam, I do like you."

And this time her eyes are glistening with tears as I reach forward and grab her hands, then pull her into a hug as we both stand on our knees, facing each other. I dare to pat her soft and sweet-smelling hair. And as we hold each other tight, I murmur in Fiona's ear, "I know we said we can be ourselves mostly when we're alone. But I really want to be myself with you."