AGATHA

I've decided I don't mind having Dylan as a roommate. When I get back from dinner I see that he's decorated his side of the room. There are books lined along the shelf on his desk, and posters taped, actually taped to the wall! Finally someone with some mundanity! I'm so tired of being surrounded by magic all the time. Simon is nothing but magic, and it's so much that it makes me nauseous sometimes. You never see anyone using Normal things. It's so tiring.

I take a look at his things. He's got a stuffed dog on his bed by his pillow. The posters are from some guy with a guitar. He's rather handsome. Probably American. HUNTER HAYES. Sounds American. There's also a poster of several guys in marching band outfits with black makeup around their eyes. MCR. What an odd bloke. But it's nice to see tape.

Maybe I should talk to him when he comes in? Try to stay up late so we can chat? Try to get to know him a little? After all, we are roommates. And he uses tape. Maybe he could teach me to tie my shoes. Nobody in my family knows how to tie shoelaces. We just spell them tied. If Dylan uses tape then he probably knows how to tie shoelaces.

I gather my clothes for bed and head off to shower. When I get back Dylan is in our room. He's in his pyjamas from last night. He's bent over something with a pencil.

"Agatha, hi," Dylan grins up at me.

"Hello, Dylan. What are you doing?" I ask, nodding to the notebook and pencil.

"Writing a letter. Figured I can't really just disappear for a whole school year without at least writing my dad and my best friend," he says.

"Who's Hunter Hayes and MCR?" I ask as I put away my things.

Dylan looks over to the posters taped to the wall around his bed. "Hunter Hayes is my favorite singer. He sings country music. He's from Louisiana. And MCR is short for My Chemical Romance. They're an emo band. Gerard is the lead singer, and his brother Mikey is their bass guitarist. Frank is the short guy and the guy with the long curly hair is Ray." He points at each of them as he tells me.

Dylan gets off his bed and walks over to his desk. He digs through his drawer until he finds what he's looking for. He's got a CD player and a few CDs when he turns around. There's a set of ear buds wrapped around the CD player. He puts in a Hunter Hayes CD and hands me one of the ear pieces. Then he puts the other in his own ear and presses play. I'm not sure how I feel about the music that begins to play. Dylan seems very into it. He's humming out the tune as the guitar and drums start. Then he starts singing along as a smooth voice begins.

She rode in from the west in a summer sundress

Hotter than the heat in July

With her windblown hair it just wasn't fair

The way she was blowin' my mind

After the first verse Dylan presses the skip button a few times. I try not to look at his breasts. Which is very hard.

Dylan lets go of the skip button and a soft piano starts up. Dylan closes his eyes with a big smile on his face. He's got a little space between his two front teeth, which are slightly turned toward each other. Then the singer starts singing.

You know I'd fall apart without you

I don't know how you do what you do

'Cause everything that don't make sense about me

Makes sense when I'm with you

After that song Dylan switches over to another CD. We go on like this until he's done sharing his music with me. He puts away his things and sits on his bed, still smiling at me. "Whadaya think?" He asks eagerly.

"Well, it's not quite my kind of music, but it's not bad," I say. Then I get up the nerve to ask him what I've been wondering all day. "Dylan, how do you... y'know?" I guester towards my chest because I can't think of the right way to ask.

Dylan looks down as his smile falters for a moment. I think I see his face darken, but he smiles again so suddenly I'm not sure if it was just my imagination.

"You're wondering how I go from C cup tiddies to a flat board, right?" He laughs, but I'm not entirely sure it's genuine. "I'll show you."

Dylan steps into his closet and shuts the door behind him. A moment later he steps out, nearly flat-chested.

"Confusing, right? I promise it's not magic though. It's science. Sort of."

This time I laugh, and then Dylan pulls up his shirt. Under it, he's wearing a nude coloured tank top of sorts.

"It's called a binder. It compresses your breasts in, and it gives a more flatter appearance. Trans guys use them to make themselves feel less dysphoric about their bodies. Less uncomfortable. Less sensitive. If you look like your body matches the gender you identify with, then you feel more comfortable. You feel more free to be yourself." Dylan steps back into the closet for a few minutes, and when he returns he's not wearing his binder anymore. "Of course, your can't bind all the time. It's too dangerous because you're literally taking your breasts and pushing them back into your chest. And since there is tissue and fat and all that jazz there, it's gotta go somewhere. Since you're pushing it back in, it also pushes back everything behind them. It's not uncommon for trans guys to deform their ribs. You're actually not supposed to bind for more than eight hours a day, four or five days a week. Anything more than that is detrimental and can definitely kill you."

"Oh," I say. I'm not sure what else to say. I don't think I'll ever use this information in the future, but Dylan seems to be a little happier having someone to tell it to.