Chapter One: Responses.

What I could do is start this whole thing at the time I first felt this way. Back in the fourth grade, when everyone went through the whole metrosexual phase in our town. I was one of the biggest contenders in the fad. In fact my group and another were the ones that really got into it. After the phase had come to an end, I had trouble understanding why I was enjoying this more than anyone else did.. I was supposed to be like my friends and follow what they liked right? I wasn't supposed to want to go the extra mile and start combining the two genders. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But I did.

For Christmas, I asked my parents for clothing they never thought they'd hear me ask for. Unexpectedly, I was turned down to my face. I was told by my Father 'No child of mine is going to be represented as a fag.' And my Mother wholeheartedly agreed. I was devastated. Why was it okay that just a few weeks ago I could be metrosexual but was now turned down for wanting to continue?

That was the first time I figured I wasn't what I originally thought I was.

In middle school, the next questioning I found myself asking was what the fuck is sexuality. Oh, that was a fun one. Wasn't it supposed to be that everyone was heterosexual and found the opposite sex attractive? Never did you questioned it, because it was right. First off, while all my friends, (and pretty much everyone else at that point) had experienced some kind of relationship, I still hadn't. What I found was I didn't classify anyone as attractive. Not that they weren't good to look at or anything of that nature, I just wasn't feeling anything 'down there' or in my heart like the other's had.

I'm not going to go ahead and tell you what I've figured out I am. I don't feel it's important to the story line. Who the fuck I choose to be with shouldn't be any of your business. It should only be of my concern, and that's how I'm going to keep it.

I now fast forward to the important years of my life. The ones that actually prove a point. Like when I finally decided to be how I really felt. And not be this false illusion of who everyone else wanted me to be. An estimate of when this was would, again, be sometime around middle school. Those years when kids actually began to stray away from the huge mass of friends you had during elementary and start to become 'yourself.'

Most of the time, kids follow what they see on tv or what they witness in magazines. Which is usually what the celebrities are doing. For my case, it was finally going back to what happened a few years back. Going back to what I thought (at the time) was metrosexual. The mixture of still being hetrosexual but having the traits of a homosexual. Or in my case: femininity.

This also goes back to when I still thought I was hetero. Cute, little, straight Craig Tucker. They were such a dream. I only say this because… Sometimes I wish I wasn't the way I am. Sometimes I wish I could be like any other individual who hasn't had a second thought about who they were or their sexual orientation. Where I could be what others perceive as normal. Straight. In love with a female. And engaging in sex. I am none of those things. Perhaps; if I were never introduced into knowing about metrosexuality was at a young age, I would be what I've dreamt of being at times.

But then again. I wouldn't want to. There's a reason why I am who I am. And I've learned to embrace it. Not by shoving it in the face of every person I run into, but to not be afraid of telling an individual about my lifestyle when asked. Where I can go out in public; not giving a shit what anybody thought as they watched me walk down the street. I can be myself.

I remember walking into eighth grade. The week before school started I received braces (which I wasn't too happy about. But I was in dire need of straightening my teeth.) My hair was freshly cut. Trimmed in a pretty casual masculine style. Short in the back but in the front crisp, straight bangs. Cut right above my eyes. Full of volume like a Japanese schoolgirl's would be and the section with the most hair. It was a mixture of both masculine and feminine. I was in love with it. (Still am.) No one seemed to care too much about those factors. What mattered to them was the fact that I was wearing a crisp white button up, paired with ebony black suspenders. A pullover grey cardigan was wrapped loosely around my waist. My legs wore normal length (for males) shorts, except instead of being loose around my legs, they were snug and hugged my thighs for dear life. They were a darker grey than my cardigan, looking real well with the tights I wore underneath. The tights must have been the breaking point for my whole outfit. Because that was what was commented about the most. The fact that I was wearing an article of female clothing. Black tights with a strip of lace going down the side of either leg. Apparently males weren't allowed to wear them, even though in Shakespearean times men who wore tights was a pretty big thing.

One thing I hate about today, is the fact that clothing is categorized by gender. Females are supposed to be the ones to appear 'pretty'. They get all the dresses and skirts of every length possible. Any fabric of choice. As thick or thin as wanted. They're allowed all the accessories. The ribbon and lace and big bows and gems. All of which you can either wear in your hair or on your body wherever it may go. Females are allowed the variety. They're allowed the makeup that they can wear on their face to hide blemishes or to look more beautiful than they already are. Never once are you faced with witnessing a girl being asked why they're wearing such things because it's right. It's the social norm in society.

Now think about males. And they get the boring end of the stick. Graphic tee shirts with (for most of time) a stupid slogan, jeans in the colours of either blue or black, shoes pretty much always look the same. Sure it's a different brand, but they're mainly the tennis shoes no one cares about, or the black work shoes, or the occasional boots they choose to wear. You may see many males wear hats, there's plenty of them out there… But that's as far as the accessories go, right? Plain and to the point. Males aren't supposed to care what they look like. Be somewhat presentable yet just enough that they can still do their job. We don't question why it's this way. It just is.

As I walk to my homeroom that same year, all eyes are on me. They had been since I set foot in the damned building. It caused a commotion. No one had heard from Craig Tucker during the whole summer break. No one except one, who couldn't help them at this moment in time, because they didn't have the same homeroom teacher. No one had expected this thirteen year old child to go against the social normality and wear something that society deemed as 'not okay'. Especially from someone like myself.

Immediately, I was teased. I was called a faggot and other equally nasty remarks. And yet, no one stood up and stopped what was happening. They continued to watch in silence. Thought that if they intervened they'd be considered a fag as well.

This year was the beginning of ultimate hell. I'll probably go back and make reference to it plenty of times because this was when I lost everything. My friends. My family. My easy lifestyle. But it was also the mark of something greater. The beginning of finally understanding how cruel and injustice this world truly is.

Earlier I mentioned a friend. They weren't my only one throughout childhood or anything lame like that, but they were the only one I was truly close to. Who didn't question my motives. They were my support. Who stuck with my journey from the very beginning.

Rumours went flying. As soon as homeroom let out was when the talk started. Kids ran up to whoever was their best friend at the time and they described the monstrosity that happened. Most kids laughed. Hell, right to my face as I passed them in the halls. But there were some who did more than that. They were the physical type. The kids who felt the only way to express what they were feeling was through contact. I was shoved for the most part. One fucker even spat on me. But what I wasn't understanding, was why this was happening.

Wasn't I same person I was the last time they saw me? My personality didn't change. (That wouldn't be until later.) I hadn't spoken two words since I walked in the building. But the fact that I looked a slight bit feminine, was what angered their flames.

I didn't go to my first period. Instead I made a detour and went to my friend's class. I assumed by now they would have heard the shit our peers were saying. So I hurried in the classroom of some English class, spotting them in the back row and called them towards me. They stood up right away, smiling slightly. I always adored their smile. It was the kind that would light up any room they were in. As they passed the kids who were entering the room, those who were giving odd looks, my heart quickened its pace. Running faster than what it did before I stepped foot on the school grounds. I was nervous for how they'd be treated after they were seen talking to me. I didn't want anything bad to happen. Although; something always did.

"Tweek this isn't what I expected!" I started as soon as we were seated in the hallway. "I figured I'd have some shit, but nothing compared to this."

We're so funny when we're young and innocent. Always believing society is one way; the way that's accepting towards your decisions… As long as it's something everyone agrees upon. This was my awakening call. What opened my eyes to the darker side of people. I was just lucky to have at least one person on my side.

"I've heard the things kids are already saying. Note it's only the first period of the day. The first day back, at that. And word has gotten around pretty quick. I wasn't expecting this type of reaction either, C. I mean, we've practically grown up with these kids and to see them backlash so fast is almost sickening."

I watched as Tweek fingered his hair. It was something he always did as he spoke. And most of the time, his fingers would get stuck in his hair. Which would then follow having the pleasure of watching him fish them out. I always admired Tweek for his looks. So I'd often find myself getting lost while staring his way. This being one those instances.

He could tell I wasn't listening as he continued to talk. But he also didn't mind. Sometimes I like to think he loves hearing his own voice. I always thought of it as too loud for his appearance. Tweek looked like the shy type who was mainly quiet even around his friends, but in contrast, his voice was loud. His words often trailing as he ended sentences. Maybe that was why I zoned out so much. That and getting lost in his facial expressions.

Footsteps were being heard behind where we sat. The hallways had tiles whereas the classrooms were filled with grey carpets. The footsteps very clearly belonged to a females. The clicking of heels beginning to get closer. Perhaps sitting in the hall wasn't the smartest of choices. Hence we could get caught by any teacher (Or anybody at that matter) who could tell us to get back to first period. Luckily for our case, this person wasn't a teacher. But that could also be worse. It meant it was someone close to us in age, and they were bound to have heard the rumours.

Bebe Stevens was probably the prettiest girl in our grade. Always was. Starting from elementary and following her up to senior year, Bebe was always described as being super pretty. Or whatever adjective you wanted to use of similar meaning. The first day of eighth grade, Bebe wore black stiletto heels. (The ones that created the clicking) Paired with a simple black skirt and a generic blue V-neck shirt. The blue did wonders for her eyes. I was always jealous of people who were granted blue eyes. They were the only type that truly showed colour and the way your pupils were formed. Having deep brown eyes, I usually had a difficult time deciphering the two apart.

She was approaching us, and I couldn't help but turn around to face her. Bebe's curly blonde hair bouncing with every step she took. She smiled wide as our eyes met. I couldn't help but return the favour.

"Just look how cute you are, Craig Tucker. I can't believe my eyes!" Bebe exclaimed

Bebe Stevens would be the second person to accept my choices. Never would we become as close as Tweek and I were, but she would pop up at the most random of times and provide me with a confidence boost. A simple compliment was all it took from her.

"What exactly are you two doing in the middle of the hall?"

Tweek and I exchanged glances.

"C just needed someone to talk to. Sure you've heard what jerks are saying, right?"

The curly blonde nodded. A pout showing on her face. "I have. Glad to have seen it with my own eyes, because lemme tell you something. You. Are. Absolutely. Adorable. For the most part, you aren't dressed any differently than someone who was going to a nice event. That fact that you paired girly tights with your outfit is something everyone can't handle. But it's a perfect little twist. I love it."

And just like, Bebe continued down the hall. Eventually turning the corner to where the restrooms sat. Right before doing so, she gave a little wave at the wrist and a flick of her curls flying behind her shoulders.

I wish more people could be like her. The ones that understand fashion. And can determine gender as something that was non-existent in that world.

By the time time lunch rolled around, I had only attended three of my classes and I still had two left. I was sitting at a table Tweek and I claimed for ourselves since the sixth grade. Him munching away at whatever his mom packed in his lunch bag. I never ate school lunch. Always deemed it as jail food and wondered exactly what the meals were truly made of.

I thought of possibly inviting Bebe to sit with us, but didn't dare bother to walk across the lunchroom in front of all those people. Plus there was the fact that she was sitting with Clyde Donovan and her friend Wendy Testaburger, who was also with her boyfriend Stan Marsh. At one point Clyde and I were good friends. Not quite like Tweek and I but when we were younger I would often find myself going over to his house after school. Not sure when we broke apart. Possibly when he started dating Bebe in the sixth grade. (Of course, they were together before then, but it wasn't an actual relationship. It was the kind where little kids thought of you being their 'partner' then ignored you for most of the time.)

So instead of doing what I wanted, I watched as Bebe interacted with her boyfriend. The little tactics she would do to get his attention to remain on her instead of straying towards his friend, Stan.

Stan Marsh was someone I was never really keen on. In elementary, his group and mine were often fighting against another. Over the most trivial of things also. During the metrosexual phase in fourth grade, Stan's group was the one that got into it just as much as my group did. But in my opinion, Stan's group wasn't up to par with us. I mean, Kyle Broflovski was the one kid who was on edge during the whole fad. While everyone in my group was game. Not to mention, we had some kickass matching outfits.

Stan and Wendy has been dating on and off since the third grade. How they did so always remained a mystery to me. Eventually they would break up for good. Wendy would begin to date Token Black sometime around sophomore year. They worked out better than when she was with Stan.

My back was to the wall. So I was granted the ability of seeing everything that went on in the lunch room. Keeping my back open would probably be a really stupid choice and I already knew I wouldn't want anything to happen. Especially with the way the day was going. I turned my attention to Tweek who was now done eating, his hazel eyes scanning the room like I was moments before.

"Kenny McCormick was saying some pretty nasty stuff in math."

I raised an eyebrow "Oh?"

"Yeah. Things I really don't feel comfortable saying. Like sexual things… About you."

"I don't care." I stated bluntly. "When isn't Kenny talking about sex?"

It was true. The first thing anyone thought about when Kenny came to mind, was sex. He was never one to come across my mind much. Funny because just a few years after all this, we would become friends. Kind of like how I was with Clyde but maybe a bit more close

"That's true." Tweek trailed off. Gazing to the left of him. "Don't think I've said this yet, but you do look really adorable today, C."

I flashed my new braces his way, smiling wide. "Thanks man. Hey, what class do you have next?"

Looking back my way, he stated. "Choir."

That was the one thing Tweek's voice was actually good for; singing. It was the only time his voice didn't trail off at the end of a sentence. His vocal chords being as loud as they were, gave him the advantage of being heard.

Luckily he could carry a tune so it wasn't embarrassing.

I groaned and set my head on the table. "Another class I'll have to brave through alone."

"Hey, maybe Bebe will be in there. I know she'll stick up for you. Bebe doesn't take lightly to people ridiculing others."

I know I talk a lot about Bebe Stevens like she really has an importance to the story line. But around this time I was really hoping she would stick with me like I wanted her to. I would have taken anybody at this point in my life. Not that I wasn't grateful for Tweek. Christ, I really owed him a lot. I was just wanting as much support as I thought I needed.

The bell rung signally lunch was over. I groaned once more. Standing up, I grabbed a hold of Tweek's arm. Then we exited before we got trampled by the huge crowd that was also trying to leave.

As we made our way through the halls to our designated areas, I thought about skipping my class. Going to Tweek's so I could hear him sing sounded like a much better plan. But when I brought the idea up, I was automatically rejected.

"You already skipped first period, C. You've only got two classes left. Then the first day will be over. And you can go home, and do nothing if you really wanted."

I looked at him, my eyes meeting his hazel ones. They were full of compassion. "Can you come home with me?" I asked.

"Think Dad wanted me to help work at the shop today, but I can certainly try if you want?"

Nodding, we continued to make our way down the hall.

Wendy Testaburger was always one who was for women's rights. The biggest feminist I've met. Ever since elementary school she was that way. Always writing reports about the issues women faced and shoving them in the other children's faces. I kind of always admired her for that. Well, at least until that day.

I only had my last class to get through. Which was Algebra I. I was somewhat advanced in math so I was already taking a high school course which would help me once I reached those years. When I walked in (with only one minute to spare) I noticed there were only five other kids. One of them being Wendy.

As soon as I walked through the doorway, the brunette stood up from her chair in the front row. Eyebrows creased inward and a frown on her mouth.

"Craig Tucker, you've got some nerve."

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I lowered my head, making my way to a seat somewhere in that back of the room. Not listening to the teacher's protests.

"Don't ignore me, Tucker. Whatever you're doing I take as an insult. The fact that you have the nerve to wear a women's article of clothing is disgusting. Just what the hell are you trying to say?"

"Miss Testaburger!" The teacher exclaimed. "Please sit down."

Sighing she did sit down, but turned my way in her seat. "Gonna explain?"

I shook my head at her. Wendy's soft brown eyes boring into my skull. I couldn't take it. Along with the other stares I was receiving from the kids in the classroom.

"Well just so you know, I don't like it. And I feel like you're trying to say something about my gender's clothing. Men always have to take things away from us."

Those last two statements were the breaking point for me. I was really hoping to make it through this hell of seven hours without backlashing at someone. But Wendy was the one to piss me off more than anyone else.

"Jesus Christ, Wendy!" I yelled. Standing up from my chair like she did when bitching me out. "Who gave women the only right to wear tights? All you people are really unbelievable. There's nothing wrong with my clothes. I'm not wearing anything out of the ordinary. And everything I've heard today has definitely pissed me off. Just give me one thing. Seriously. This certainly won't be the last time. This was just the first step. Clothing shouldn't be categorized

by gender. Open your god damned eyes."

With that I stormed out of the classroom. For the second time in only ten minutes the teacher protested. She was just trying to do her job and Wendy and I were pretty much screwing shit up. I had tears in my eyes. Crying was something I rarely do, but I felt I needed to get my emotions out. So I made my way to the closest restroom I could find. Walking inside, finding an empty stall and locking myself in until the last bell of the day sounded.

At this point I was questioning my actions. If I really wanted to go through with it like I argued moments ago.