Violet hated the fact that art class took place during first period. Once it was over, she had nothing to look forward to the rest of the school day.
"It's brilliant," Mr. Garner, the art teacher, commended her for the watercolor she had partially completed. "I like how the shades of red gradually change. And the kinetic lines practically jump off the canvas."
"Thanks," said Violet bashfully.
She was perfectly visible walking the halls of Shadowglen High School, where she had just started as a freshman, but didn't feel like it. Only a few isolated students flashed grudging smiles at her, but most passed by her in self-absorbed clumps. With all her heart she wanted to reach out to a boy, or even a girl, seated alone on a bench, but dared not. She shared little common ground with the other high schoolers, having mostly abandoned social and recreational pursuits in favor of superheroics. What would she talk to them about? How proud she was that she had successfully created a force field around a tour bus?
A quartet of babbling girls appeared before her, and to her elation, one of them was her neighbor, Chris. At least she would be recognized.
"Uh, hi, Chris," she greeted the blond girl.
Chris turned and let out a delighted gasp. "Violet! You're my neighbor, and you go to my school! What are the odds? Girls, this is my neighbor, Violet Parr."
"Hi, Violet," said the other three girls with slight waves.
The group then resumed its conversation as Violet stood and listened.
"And my dad was like, 'She doesn't have any talent. She's just lip-synching.' And I was like, 'She is so not lip-synching. She's totally using her own voice.' And he was all, 'No way. This is totally fake.' And I was like, 'Whatever.'"
"I can totally identify with you, Brittany."
"And then he was like, 'If you want to hear people use their real voices, go to the opera.' And I was like, 'As if. I am so not gonna sit through an opera. They're, like, forty hours long, and stuff.'"
"Totally."
Chris watched through the corner of her eye as Violet shrugged and walked away. She wanted so very badly to walk alongside the raven-haired girl and discuss some meaningful subject. And she would, but in her own time and manner.
As the bulk of the student body enjoyed lunch in the cafeteria, she found a lonely spot on the edge of the campus, where she stood behind a tree and made a call on her cell phone.
"Hello?" came a gravelly female voice.
"Edna," said Chris warmly, "this is Chris Hamilton."
"Hamilton?" the voice repeated. "I don't know any Hamiltons."
"I'm The Transfixer."
"Oooh!" cried Edna, her exclamation of joy almost breaking the girl's eardrum. "It's so good to hear from you. How's the new costume working?"
"Uh, pretty well so far," Chris replied. "It gives me all the support I need. Gets a little tight in the crotch when I turn into a boy, but that's not often."
"Happy to hear it," Edna went on. "Transgender suits are difficult to do well, especially for a subject entering puberty. As soon as you feel like you've outgrown the suit, don't hesitate to..."
"I'm not calling about the suit," Chris interrupted. "How are you at masks, E?"
She heard a brief silence. "Masks...masks...what sort of masks? Cowl? Bandanna?"
"I want something to change my face. My boy face, not my girl face."
Another silence. "Have you talked to your parents about this?"
"No," Chris admitted. "I don't want them to find out. They wouldn't understand."
"So you want to adopt a male persona," Edna mused. "May I ask for what purpose?"
The blond girl fumbled for words. "I...I just want another identity so I can do things without drawing attention to my family."
"I think there's something you're not telling me," said Edna wickedly.
Chris sighed. "There's this girl..."
"Say no more," said Edna. "Just send me a scan of your boy face by email, and I'll have the mask to you by tomorrow. I won't breathe a word to your parents."
----
More to come...