AGATHA
When I wake up Dylan is still in bed. I've never seen him in bed. He's always gone by this time. I take the opportunity to look him over.
I've never met a transgender person before. Dylan looks so different now than he does in uniform. When he's dressed he looks flat chested, but now that I see him laying out in his pyjamas with a blanket across his middle I can tell he's probably a C cup. Not sure how he makes that work. He's out cold, so I get a good look at him. (It's so weird calling him a him when I can see that he is clearly female. I'm not transphobic or anything. It's just a new concept for me.)
He's wearing a black t-shirt with red checkered pyjama bottoms. He's got moles all along his white skin, and a few scars on his face. He's not quite skinny, but I wouldn't say he's fat either. His feet are small. We could probably wear each other's shoes.
One of his trouser legs is pulled up and I can see that his leg is shaved. His hair is matted and messy. He must sweat a storm in his sleep, as it's practically soaked his bangs to his forehead in clumps. I decide it's time to stop staring and get ready for the day.
I return from the toilet and Dylan is sitting at the edge of his bed, rubbing his face with one hand. He startles when I come in.
"Agatha," he says, pulling his blanket up to cover his body. He's still got one trouser leg pulled up. "Sorry, I um. I'm sorry. I'm usually gone by now. I must've slept in. Sorry."
"Heaven's snakes, Dylan, you apologize too much." I walk into the room and begin putting away my pyjamas and toiletries. I'm not looking at him. I'm not sure if it's to make me more comfortable or him.
"Sorry," he mumbles again. "I uh, I'll probably wait until everyone goes off to breakfast to get a shower since I woke up late."
"Okay?" I'm not sure what that has to do with me.
"Sorry. I uh, I guess you don't really care, huh?" Dylan breathes out a laugh.
I dare a look in his direction. He's still clutching the blanket to his chest with one hand, and pulling down his trouser leg with the other. He's awkward, like Simon. But maybe more awkward than Simon. It's kind of cute, in a way.
I want to ask him questions, but I'm afraid that I'll offend him. What kind of questions are acceptable? I think he can tell I'm curious, but he doesn't say anything. I finish putting my things away and head to breakfast.