How Far Can I Go?

They checked their bag before they left for school. Homework, half done but at least not destroyed (yet). Pencil case, held together by elastic bands, but still in one piece. Mandatory school agenda to help them keep track of the one piece of homework per night. Bagged lunch and snack bag went in the main pouch, then the dry twenty-five cent instant noodle packet went in the small pouch on the side. An extra sandwich-size Ziploc bag went in the pouch with the noodles.

Everything they needed to bring to school was there. If they were luck, maybe they would get to turn in their homework today. If not, there were only a couple weeks left in the school year. The teachers had probably already made up the grades for report cards. If it got ripped up again, it wouldn't affect their grades at all. The only thing saving their grades this year was writing tests at school and in front of the teachers. The other kids couldn't destroy their test without being caught.

They sighed and zipped their bag closed. Three more weeks, then they would be free of this.

The trip to school was normal. The bus was loud with kids shouting over each other to be heard while they talked to their friends. One of their classmates continuously kicked the back of their seat because they thought it was funny. Honestly, they had a hard time understanding why the other kid thought it was still funny after two months, but they couldn't do anything about it.

When they got off the bus and felt someone grab their bag. Every day, it was the same routine. They just let it happen. Fighting was ineffective and running didn't work when there was nowhere to run to.

"What's in here today" one girl asked, "Oh! Your parents are so nice! Cookies for snack today. Thank you very much!"

"MY TURN! I want the juice! My parents always give me bottled water and I like the juice better!" claimed a boy.

A few other kids took various parts of their lunch until they were left with an empty sac. One of the kids who didn't get any food grabbed their homework, threw it on the ground and jumped on it. It was dirty, but not ruined, at least.

They were just glad that the kids never bothered to check the other pouches of their bag. The noodles they had bought with their allowance remained safe from theft once again. Then again, maybe no one was interested in eating that garbage, so it wasn't sought out.

Class passed by as normal, kids kicked their seat and pushed them into their desk when the teacher wasn't looking. They just did their best to keep their head down and do the busywork. Since their homework was usually destroyed or damaged, they needed to get as much of it done during class time as possible.

Come lunch time, they retrieved their dry noodles and Ziploc from their bag. It was quick work to put the dry noodles into the Ziploc, dump in the flavour packet, and crush the noodles inside the bag. Crushing the noodles helped to spread out the flavour packet and make the noodles taste less terrible. Water fountains were thankfully free. The flavour packets are very salty.

Only three weeks until summer, where they could have sandwiches for lunch again. Maybe a hot dog on occasion, and apple slices for a snack. They just had to stay determined and keep their thoughts focused on the future.

All was going well until last period. Health class again. Instead of science and PE for last period this week, the teacher decided that this would be the week that the students receive the curriculum-ordered puberty week.

"Today at the end of class, we will have a table to help you remember what the primary and secondary sex characteristics are for boys and girls. There are some secondary traits that are the same for both boys and girls, but we are going to focus on the ones that are different."

The teacher went on about definitions and asked various students to give examples. All they could think about were which secondary sex characteristics they wouldn't mind having when they got older. Most characteristics turned their stomach, but stuff like hair under their arms didn't sound too bad. Hair down below sounded weird, but they could get used to that.

Everything was fine until the teacher stopped in front of their desk.

"Can you tell me one secondary sex trait that you will develop when you start puberty?" the teacher asked.

"Underarm hair." They said.

"That is correct, but I'm looking for one that is specific to girls like yourself. We need to fill up the girls box in our table."

They looked up at the table the teacher had drawn on the board. Breasts, narrow waist, larger hips. They knew that there were plenty of other things that they could mention, but those distinctions made them feel sick.

They wanted to grow up, they just didn't want to grow up like that.

"I-I don't feel comfortable answering this."

The teacher frowned sympathetically, "I know this is awkward, but it is important to be aware of how your body will start changing soon. Knowledge is power, and this is to help you feel empowered in your body as you grow into it. It begins with learning and embracing the changes to come. Just tell me one thing that will change about your body in the next few years."

"Um… Longer upper arms." That one was fairly neutral. It's not like people went and stared at peoples upper arms to determine whether they were a boy or a girl. That one was fine.

"Very good. That wasn't too bad, was it?" The teacher wrote the answer on the board before moving on to another student. They knew that she wasn't being mean when she pressed for an answer, but they still didn't like being singled out like that.

When the bell rang at the end of the day, they took extra time to put their stuff away. Other kids kicked their chair on the way out but didn't do anything more than that. After about two minutes, they were alone in the classroom with their teacher.

They quickly grabbed the two things they needed to put in their bag before making their way to their teacher's desk. "Um, I have a question. It's about the puberty stuff."

"What is it? If there's something you don't understand, I would be happy to help." She said.

They took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "I was just wondering if it ever happened that people didn't grow up to look like a boy or a girl."

"Hmm," she hummed, "Do you mean someone who was born a girl but wants to be a boy or the opposite?"

"No, I mean," they huffed. This was weird to explain, "Like what if they grew up and the secondary characteristics they got were only the ones that boys and girls share? So they grew up and looked somewhere in the middle. Like just a person, not a boy or a girl."

The teacher chuckled, "There are cases of intersex people. These are people who were born with abnormailities in their sex chromosomes, causing them to develop differently from the boy or girl identity they were given at birth. In these cases, the genetic disorder is treated by giving the individual hormones appropriate to their assigned sex so that they can develop normally."

They felt a small spark of hope. Maybe they could be this intersex thing and just not take the hormones! They immediately asked their teacher, "So does that mean I can be intersex if I want instead of being a girl?"

"Oh no, of course not! Being intersex isn't something that you should want, nor is it something you can become. You are either born with the chromosome abnormality or you are not. At this point, your parents should be aware of whether this applies to you or not, with the ease of genetic testing at this time. If they have never mentioned it to you, then you will likely grow into a wonderful young lady."

"But what if I don't want to become a lady?" They stressed. They knew that she wasn't trying to be mean, but she didn't seem to get what they were asking.

"Oh. Are you saying that you want to be a boy instead? It is uncommon, but there are treatments for transgender people as well, though only with your parents' permission and after your natural puberty has occurred." She explained.

"No, I don't want to be a boy. Trying to call myself a boy makes me feel weird." They admitted, "It's just that trying to call myself a girl feels weird too."

"This sort of counseling is a bit outside of my sphere of knowledge. You should probably talk to your parents about these feelings so that you can get them sorted out. In fact, I'll send your mother an e-mail now. Later on today or this week, the two of you can have a mother-daughter chat to work through it. Maybe she can enlighten you with her own experiences." She said.

"No, you really don't need-"

"It will be good for both of you. You're growing up and having mature conversations will only set grounds for a good relationship as you get older. Now hurry on out, or you'll miss your bus."

They knew a dismissal when they heard one. Was it really so strange that being called a girl felt just as weird as being called a boy?

They managed to barely catch their bus and did their best to be ignored. They knew that their mom would make them sit and talk about whatever the teacher sent in that e-mail. There was a slim hope that their mother wouldn't freak out at them, but they were resigned to face the worst. They had until their mom got home from work to prepare themselves emotionally.

To keep themselves calm, they put their homework on their desk and scattered some pencils about. At a glance, it would look like they had started it, though they didn't intend to actually do it at all. Then they grabbed their favourite book from the shelf and a soft blanket. They wrapped themselves up in the blanket and tucked themselves into a corner to read.

Escaping into the pages of a fantasy novel always helped them to relax. It was nice to imagine other worlds where there was a clear quest to complete, and the protagonist always found the best outcome. Everyone was saved and the bad guy would be redeemed or imprisoned. Magic guided the way and all one needed was the will to make the world into their vision and the determination to see it through.

Sometimes they wished they could escape into an adventure like that. But what would their magic power be? What kind of quest would they do? And what would they need to bring with them?

The heroes of a fantasy story always had some sort of weapon or magical device from their world to help them. Sometimes an animal companion too. Here on Earth, they knew they'd be limited to whatever they could buy from the mall or a department store.

They did have a good amount of their allowance saved. They put five dollars per week into a savings piggy bank for when they wanted to buy themselves special treats like the hardcover version of a book or upgrade their ice cream cone to a sundae. The other five dollars was spent on dry noodles for lunch and their after-school snacks when they wanted one. During the school year, they didn't go out much to spend it, so they had about two hundred and twenty dollars saved up. What could they do with that much money?

That was a thought they could follow for hours if they wanted to.

It was too bad that their mom came home sooner than they would have liked.

"Honey, I'm home!" she called.

"Welcome home mom!" they called back.

They heard they mom put her things away and shuffle around her room. For some reason she felt the need to change clothes after coming home from work, even though her work clothes didn't look all that different from her regular clothes.

After a few minutes, they heard their mom knock on their door before walking in.

"I received an e-mail from your teacher today. She said that there were some things you needed to talk to me about. I am here to help you with any questions you have about growing up. I was a girl myself once, you know, just like you are now. I can help you with anything you need."

So they were being dropped in the deep end, huh? Their mom never did like to do things halfway or without some idea of how she wanted the conversation to end. "What did my teacher say?" they asked. Maybe if they knew what points they would have to defend or dodge or cover up, they could make a quick battle plan for this conversation. If they could figure out what their mom wanted to hear, maybe she would drop it without looking farther.

But when had that ever worked before? It hadn't, but that didn't mean that they couldn't try again. They just had to try again and again until she gave up or they succeeded in lying.

"I was hoping that you would come to me. You were comfortable enough to talk to your teacher about some mother-daughter subject, so why wouldn't you be able to talk to your own mother? I love you and I will always look out for your best interests."

Their best interests as she defined them, anyways. Of course their mom wouldn't say what she already heard from the teacher. If she did, then she'd be at a disadvantage in this conversation. He wouldn't allow it. She always had to win.

They were stuck with trying to bring up the truth as vaguely as possible in as non-threatening a way as possible.

"We had a lesson today about secondary sex characteristics. I asked the teacher if there were sometimes people ended up with characteristics that made them not look like either a girl or a boy." They said. It was easiest to start with academics. Their mom couldn't fault them for learning, "That's pretty much what we talked about."

Their mom glanced down at them with a condescending smile, "That's not quite what she told me. She said that you asked her if you might be intersex because you don't want to grow into your womanhood. She seemed concerned that you might need some counselling if you were having unusual feelings like this, if we couldn't talk this over ourselves." Their mom looked around the room. It was a simple room with a bed and a desk, but very clearly a girl's room. The pale pink wallpaper and light purple curtains strongly suggested a female occupant. Then she looked back at them, "Have I done something wrong? I've never done anything to make you believe you weren't my beautiful little girl, did I?"

"No mom, you haven't."

"Then tell me sweetheart, where is this coming from? What's so wrong about being a young woman?" she asked.

They hated this tactic. Their mom was asking them for an opinion just so she could trap them with it. She wouldn't be happy unless they could convince her that they wanted to be a girl.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with being a woman of any age." They could say that truthfully. There was nothing wrong with anyone for being a boy or a girl. They knew that they were wrong though, since they didn't like being called either, even if they were a girl.

"But?"

They sighed. They knew they'd lost. They had lost this discussion the moment their mom had started it. They just had to rip off the metaphorical band-aid and get this over with. "I just feel weird inside when someone calls me a girl. When I think about my chest growing or my hips getting bigger or my face changing shape or starting my period, I just feel wrong. I don't want to be a boy though. I don't want a deep voice or a big adam's apple or facial hair or any of that either. I just want to look like me."

"So you just aren't ready for puberty, is that it? It can be scary when your body changes, but once it does, you'll feel empowered. You're going to become who you would always grow up to be." She said.

"That's not it, mom."

"Then what exactly is the problem?"

"I don't feel like a girl, and I don't know if I want to be a woman when I grow up either! I just want to be me!" they said loudly. They didn't understand why they felt this way either, but she just wasn't listening. They knew she wouldn't listen unless they could convincingly lie about wanting to be a girl, but they couldn't. They hoped that maybe she would listen this time, despite never listening before. They hoped that maybe they could still be a proper mother and child pair.

"What you're saying is absolutely crazy. You can be either a girl or you're a boy. And when you were born, you were one hundred percent female. You are a girl, and you will grow into a woman. You need to stop being immature and accept that." She said sternly. It was clear that she had never had any intention of entertaining any other thought. They still had to try. Maybe if they tried harder, she would see them as a person and not a girl.

"But what if that was wrong? My teacher said that some people were born with different chromosomes or something. Did they test me for that when I was born? Maybe I just look like a girl not but when puberty comes, I won't look like a girl anymore." They hoped that this could be true.

"No. I had tests done while I was pregnant. They found no extra chromosomes in you or anything in your cells or my blood that would suggest you are anything but a girl."

They could still see, but it felt like the walls had just collapsed on them.

"The sooner you get over this childish daydream and accept that you will be a beautiful young woman, the happier all of us will be. Being yourself shouldn't be as difficult as you are making it. All you have to do is embrace your femininity and behave like the girl we both know that you are." She said. Their mom couldn't see them at all. She just saw what she wanted.

"I'm trying to be myself. I'm trying to be me. I just don't feel like a girl." They said. Their voice sounded far away. They couldn't feel anything. It was hot and cold and muffled and clear. It was as if they were offset from the world by just a little bit. They were there. They could move and act. It just felt like they weren't quite connected right.

"That is enough. If you don't stop lying about this and tell me the truth right now, that your are a girl, then I will be forced to tell your father about this. If your hears of this, then you can bet there will be consequences for this poor behaviour." She threatened.

They were stuck. They were disengaged and stuck. If they lied and called themselves a girl, their mom would call them out for lying. If they said that they weren't a girl, their mom would call them a liar anyways. Either way, they knew they'd be punished for lying. All they could do was try one last time to tell the truth.

"I'm me. I don't know who that is yet, but I want to be me. Even if that me isn't quite a girl."

Their mom stood up and looked down at them, "Your father will be hearing about this tonight. Expect to learn about your punishment after supper tonight." She turned and walked out, leaving the door open. They watched her back as she walked away from them.

They felt like crying, but their eyes wouldn't work. The slowly picked their book back up and stared at the pages. They weren't reading.

They went back to their thoughts from earlier. How far would two hundred and twenty dollars take them?