Make a Plan

The next day was terrible. It wasn't enough that the teacher had to e-mail their mother and force that stupid "talk" on them, but then she had to ask them about how it went. Why? It's none of her business! Wasn't that the point of e-mailing their mom in the first place? Wasn't it specifically because it was none of her business?

And of course she had to ask about it during lunch period. Right where everyone could hear it. Who does that?

Because of her, everyone who didn't already think of them as some kind of freak did now. The chair kicking escalated to knocking them out of their chair and onto the floor. For the first time, one of their classmates actually destroyed their classwork during class, not that their teacher noticed. When they borrowed a bathroom pass to get a five-minute break, they came back to their desk to see it covered in black ink.

It said "HEESH FREAK."

They were beyond frustrated at this point. They kept to themselves, they didn't react, they didn't complain or tattle. It didn't matter. They were just so different and apparently that was unacceptable. They'd had enough.

They screamed, "Who the hell wrote this on my desk?"

The class was silent while the teacher frowned at them, "That is unacceptable behaviour. You cannot scream in class while you are supposed to be learning. It is completely inappropriate. One more outburst and you'll be sent to the principal's office."

"But someone wrote on my desk."

"I haven't seen anyone go near your desk. Just erase it."

"Whoever did it wrote in sharpie, so I can't erase it. "

"Then just ignore it. I'll have the janitor see if he can't remove it after school."

"I can't just ignore it though. Did you even look at what they wrote?"

"Sticks and stones. Just let it be." The teacher dismissed them. That sticks and stones saying was just so stupid.

As they went to sit down, the boy sitting beside them grabbed the corner of their desk and lifted. Their desk flipped over and their stuff fell out onto the floor. They boy stayed in his seat as if he'd never moved, and the teacher stared with disbelief.

"Principal's office, now! Throwing a tantrum over a few words is inexcusable at your age. That is the behaviour of a kindergartener. I will be calling your parents tonight. This behaviour is not allowed in the classroom."

They left their stuff on the floor and made their way to the principal's office. It didn't matter if they picked it up. Their classmates would just ruin it anyways. It would stay on the floor or end up in the recycling bin for all they cared.

When the principal talked to them, they just stayed silent. It didn't matter what he said. It didn't matter if they tried to stand up for themselves. In the end, he would back up whatever the teacher says. Since she thought that they were throwing a tantrum over some desk graffiti, that's what the principals would be told to punish them for.

It was near the end of the day, so he decided to let them go home on the bus. They had to bring a letter home to their parents about the incident, informing them that their child would be given a one day suspension for damaging school property.

That suspension, though a blessing in disguise, still hurt. Did their teacher think that they had graffitied their own desk for attention and then thrown a tantrum because they didn't get it? As far as they knew, knocking a desk over wouldn't damage it. It was made of metal.

Though they were looking forward to a day away from their classmates, they weren't looking forward to their parents' reaction. They were supposed to be their perfect little girl. They were supposed to be smart and kind and sociable and strong. They were supposed to enjoy normal girly things and have lots of friends and keep their clothes mostly clean when they went outside. They were supposed to be a lot of things, but they weren't any of it.

It was something that their parents made sure to tell them when they came home to a phone call and a letter from the principal.

"What happened to my good little girl who always smiled and did her best? The little girl who tried to make friends with everyone she came across?" Their mother questioned. It wasn't a real question. They knew that, and it just hurt more.

"You have never acted this way before. Why the sudden change?" Their father asked.

"I just-"

"This has to do with our talk yesterday, doesn't it? Are you trying to get back at me for telling you the truth?" Their mother accused.

"No!"

"Oh no, I know that tone. You really do blame me for this, so you're trying to get yourself in trouble to blame me for telling you that you're a girl. It won't work, because no matter how long you deny it, you will always be a girl."

"That's not what happened!"

"Sure it isn't."

"Mom, will you just listen to me?"

"I tried listening to you yesterday, but you are clearly living in denial. In some fantasy you've cooked up in your head. You can be a girl and still enjoy running around and getting dirty. You can be a girl and have a wild imagination. Regardless, you are still a girl, and you need to learn when to turn that imagination off. You need to start living in the real world and follow this world's rules."

And that was that. Their mom wasn't going to ever listen to them. No matter what they said or did, she had made up her mind. They were never going to be good enough for her unless they became whatever she told them they had to be.

"It's not a fantasy. I just don't want to grow up get boobs or a beard or any of that other stuff! All I said was that I didn't want it!" Tears pricked their eyes. They tried not to cry in front of their parents whenever possible. Crying just made their parents dismiss their arguments faster.

Their father knelt down to look them in they eye, "Your mother and I were discussing this last night. We agreed that, if by the end of the school year you hadn't gotten a grip on yourself and started accepting yourself as a girl, we would have to send you somewhere to help you. Originally, we were thinking about a counsellor as your teacher suggested, but an issue this severe might require something more intense."

"W-what do you mean?"

"I spend some time last night looking into summer camps. They are for kids around your age who don't behave as they should. Either they claim to have crushes on kids the same gender as them, or they claim to be the opposite gender despite what their body shows. These camps help kids like you to understand who you were born to be and accept that." Their father explained.

They were shocked. "You want to send me to a conversion camp?" They had only read about those online. They hadn't thought those camps still existed. How could their parents claim to love them and still send them to such a place?

"We love you sweetheart, and it's not a conversion camp. They aren't converting you into someone you aren't. They're just there to help guide you to embrace your femininity." Their mother said.

Their parents couldn't see it. Instead of maybe listening to them and trying to help them understand who they were, they were going to send them to a bunch of strangers to try to make them into someone socially acceptable.

Either be themselves and be shunned, or suppress themselves and fit in. No matter what, they would lose.

"If there's nothing else to be said, I'll register you right away. There weren't many spaces left when I checked last night. You'll only be there for one summer. When you come back, you'll be a brand new person, ready for the world. You should be looking forward to it." Their father said.

They barely remembered eating dinner and going up to their room. They sat in a corner, rubbing their hands on the carpet as the sun went down. Their room went dark, and they still couldn't believe the conversation their parents had just had.

As their awareness slowly came back, they counted their savings and turned on their computer. There were only two and a half weeks until they'd be sent away. They had two and a half weeks to buy what they needed to escape.

They couldn't buy anything online since they weren't old enough for a credit card. Their parents might also see the mail. However, they were free to go out on the weekends. Anything they could fit in their backpack and hide in their room was fair game.

All they needed to do was run away for a few days, a week at most, so that their parents couldn't bring them to the camp. They knew they'd probably be grounded all summer and punished with no library or internet privileges or something, but they could deal with that. That would be boring, but it could be worse.

They didn't want to imagine how miserable a conversion camp would be. Would they even be allowed to make friends there? Or would that be considered conspiracy or something at the camp. They probably made the kids enforce their bigoted beliefs with each other.

They needed to decide what to do for a week on the run and then make a list of what they would need.

Hiding out around the town was out. They would definitely be seen by someone who knew them, and they'd be caught within hours of leaving. They'd miss a day of "camp" but that's all. To go out of town meant they'd need to purchase a bus or train ticket to another town or city. The bus was usually cheaper than the train, and they'd need to conserve their money for other stuff.

The cheapest bus tickets were to the next town down the highway. It wasn't that far, but there was very little chance that someone would know them there. They only needed to get a one-way ticket too. After their few days or a week away, they could go to the nearest police station and report themselves found. Or if there weren't too many people looking for them, they could just put a couple quarters in a payphone and call their parents. As mad as they'd be, their parents would still pick them up.

They could take public transit this weekend to the bus station to purchase their ticket. On the way back, they could pick up whatever rations they'd need. As big of a water bottle as they could find, as well as non-perishable snacks. Whatever could fit in their backpack and didn't require cooking.

The pulled up a map of the town they'd stay in, Ebott town. The town bordered a national park, known for it's mountains and deep woods camping. Within the town, there were the typical grocery stores, a library, public services and such. It also contained many sport stores for people who needed camping or hunting supplies. They had to consider whether they would try to spend the week inside or outside.

Obviously, inside would be preferable. They'd have access to clean water, heating (not that it mattered so much in the summer), more food if they needed it, shelter, and other resources they may not have thought about yet. They could try hiding in a library washroom or something for the hour before close and until the librarians had left. Sleeping between stacks of books sounded pretty good. On top of that, the kids' section of libraries was usually carpeted. It would make sleeping much more comfortable.

The only thing was that libraries usually had overnight security cameras. Grocery stores did too, unless they were big enough to have people work overnight. Either of those would get them caught. They would have the same problem if they tried hiding in a Wal Mart or something. They could hide in the clothing racks until the store closed, but the nighttime workers would probably find them at some point.

Outside would be more difficult, especially if it rained, but it was possible. There was a giant national park right there. It would be easy enough to hide out for a week without meeting anyone. There weren't any set camping locations. At most, there were some dirt roads to the ranger stations. If it did rain, they could try to find shelter under thick brush, dense trees, or if they were lucky, a mountain cave. The only problem would be camping supplies. If they were going to hide inside, they'd only need money for food and maybe local bus fare. If they were going to be camping for a week, they'd need to purchase at least a bedroll and maybe a small tarp. A tent would be way outside their budget.

They would also want to budget for a small firestarter, some basic first aid supplies, and a short rope or bungie cord. The food, first aid supplies, and water bottle could be purchased either this weekend or next. Actually, if they pretended to be interested in the camp, their parents might buy the water bottle for them. After all, what's a summer camp without camp activities? Staying hydrated in the summer heat is important.

If they get the bus ticket this weekend, they might even get a discount. Sometimes bus and train tickets went on sale if they were bought ahead of time.

They had made up their mind. They wrote out what they would need to get.

Before:
- ticket

- water bottle (parents maybe)

- food (protein bars or something)

- first aid stuff (bandages, polysporin)

At Ebott:

- firestarter

- bedroll or sleeping bag

- short bungie cord or rope

- small tarp (if enough money)

They hid the paper between their mattress and their bedframe. They couldn't allow their parents to find this, or they'd never be able to run away.

They climbed into bed and tried to calm themselves enough to sleep. It didn't work. Their mind was excited and nervous and scared all at the same time. They feared getting caught and being sent to some conversion camp under the guise of helping them, but they were also excited. If they were lucky and smart, they'd be able to run away. They didn't want to run away for good. They still loved their parents, despite their lack of understanding. They just wanted to run away long enough to not have to go to that camp.

It shook their nerves to think about running away, but they knew what they needed to do. They had no other choice. It was either run away to somewhere and live by themselves as themselves for a week or be sent away to have strangers try to change who they are.

It was an easy choice. One they were determined to follow through on, if their parents were determined to send them away.