Chapter 9

"She thinks she's a boy. Go, read it! This is so weird!" Leah hands the book to her friend, Crystal. Crystal reads part of it out loud. It was so strange to me, especially because I no longer cared. Since I left the classroom with my book on my desk, I felt the pressure of hiding and wanting everyone to know all at the same time suddenly vanish. It always was going to come to this. I guess I just didn't expect it to happen so soon. I didn't even think of it until I got to school today. My reputation wasn't at all perfect, but I knew now that the image everyone had of me was now gone. According to them, I have a real boyfriend from Arizona, and I still may or may not be a prostitute. I marched to the center of the classroom, and sat and looked straight at Leah as she read from a page in the book. About waking up and feeling like I'm in a stranger's body. Like my name doesn't feel like it's my own. Everyone listened. Hung onto every word. Like she had them in a trance. Part of me wondered if maybe they were understanding the words I wrote. But it was too good to be true. When I take a look around me, I see disgusted looks and wide eyes on me and see some girls with their phones out, recording everything. By the time Miss Leroy realizes what Leah was reading, she yells at the class to have their attention on her. Everyone listens and takes a seat. The woman wasn't fit or strong by any means, but a woman as hefty as her sure frightened us when she would get angry. Her face turned a deep shade of pink, and her lips scrunched into themselves. She twitches her nose and shakes her head slowly. Disapprovingly. Crystal quickly tosses the book to Leah, and then Leah tosses it to me, suddenly not wanting anything to do with it. Miss Leroy waddles over and snatches the book from me, causing me to wipe the smile right off my face and blur my eyes with my tears."I don't know why you would write this, but it's becoming a distraction. Meet me after class."

Everyone in the classroom seems to be looking up at the ceiling, or out the windows, not paying any attention to Miss Leroy, or even their phones, like they usually would. No, I was finally certain that I was in everyone's thoughts. Unlike the rumors from before, they all know this is real. It was both terrifying to think about and incredibly powerful. I felt like I finally earned my rights to be myself. Like I wasn't allowed to before today. Like my life hadn't begun until now. I know now that Lucian is finally seen, even if everyone hates him.

***"Atarah Bucur, what was that stunt you pulled? Why was everyone watching Leah read your journal?"

"Why aren't you talking to her? She's the one who took my journal and read it. I was just writing what I felt one night."

For a moment, Miss Leroy looked as though she wanted to be my friend. Play nice. She sits back down at her desk and pulls up the uncomfortable chair sitting in the corner. I sat down. "Atarah, tell me more about what you're feeling."

I stay looking down at the carpet, feeling a mixture of shock, happiness, and fright. "Well, I guess I've always been a guy. I don't belong here. In this body, or this school. Part of me wanted everyone to find out."

"Now, why would you want that? Enlighten me."

"I want to be myself, Miss Leroy. Whether or not anybody understands, this is who I am."

"So you're saying you're a boy. In a girl's body. You're not Atarah?"

I nod my head. She's getting it. "Yes. I'd rather be called Lucian ."

"Lucian, huh? Well, Atarah, I'm afraid I can't call you that. If you wish to transfer schools, you can have that talk with your parents. But I would highly suggest you find a counselor or a therapist. Tell them how you feel. I think if you were guided down the right path, you'll realize you're just a confused girl, not happy with going through changes, like puberty."

"Yes, Miss Leroy. I'm terrified of bleeding once a month and fitting in with the other girls. So I don't want to be one anymore," I reply sarcastically. "I don't care if you think I need help! I know what I feel. I know who I am."

My teacher looks like she had just got slapped across the face. I didn't get up from my chair, though I really wanted to storm out. I knew her routine. When she would have a "heart to heart" with one of her students, she would call their parents and request they pick them up. She wouldn't want them being distracted and failing their schoolwork. Though I think the true concern is the clique of girls that act like clones and text each other instead of participating, sometimes even causing them to get held back. There are girls smoking in the bathroom. But no, the trans boy is the problem. I knew I was going to get made fun of. Terribly. Diana was right about that. But she was also right about how I would feel afterward. So I wasn't going to let some teasing and bullies distract me. I would much rather stay and learn. And find Noa.

After reassuring Miss Leroy that I would be fine to continue attending my classes and even lying to her, saying she was right about me needing counseling, I am able to go to my next class. I power walk to my locker, grab my notebook and pencil case, and then sprint down the hall to the Spanish classroom. I enter around ten minutes late, with a tardy slip, excusing me. I take my seat next to Noa and pass her a note, explaining it all.

I can tell just from watching her face that her heart dropped. She frowned and scrunched her face slightly in confusion as she continued onto what I was assuming was the part where I explained I left my journal out on purpose.

She passes a note back when the teacher isn't looking. "I'm happy for you!! Or, I think. You really wanted to come out like that?"

I scribble something down and then quickly pass it back to her. I explained to her that I wasn't planning on it until I walked into the classroom and sat down. I observed Leah and realized that teenage girls are so focused on themselves that even when they try to hide their insecurities. Even if rumors and bullies begin to surround me, I will never be a top priority over themselves. Why should it matter in the end?

Then, she passes one final note, which I respond to with a nod. A quick nod that holds more emotion than words could show. I keep the note in my hand as I read it over and over again, trying to accept the fact that this was now my reality that was changing.

"Are you happy?"

I finally brought my attention to what my teacher was announcing. I discarded it and ignored her words once again once I heard the murmurs from the small group of girls behind me who were also in history class with me this morning.

"Do you think she's gonna have to go to therapy?" One girl whispers.

"Like, conversion therapy?"

I suddenly feel sick. But I guess that's what freedom is going to feel like for a while. The next thing on my mind, once again distracting me from the teacher, who gave up trying to even get us all to pay attention, was how on earth I would tell my parents. Do I even tell them at all? They're gonna find out anyway, I'm sure. If a teacher thought I needed help, they were going to try and be "helpful." I shake my head, yawn, shift around in my seat. Whatever keeps me awake and concentrated. Or at least to the point where I can hear the lecture. Noa shifts her gaze to me every couple of minutes to make sure I'm doing okay. I don't think I've ever been so distracted. I was known for zoning out, consumed with my own thoughts, but never at school. I loved learning. School started off as my escape from my toxic relationship with my family. Now it's something I enjoy, even if it is just because I now find comfort in most classes and nurture those scars that have yet to heal.

Nobody else in my family lives in Nebraska. My dad was the one who ran. But the fact that we never get any visitors shows that they would have kept their distance if he had stayed in Arizona. Even Gram Gram fought with him on occasion, even though she argued such behavior wasn't proper. She was the only one who understood, though. She must have known that her daughter was transgender. I know she would have supported me. I assume, even though most of my dad's side of the family never talks to or acknowledges us, they are all against it. On my mom's side, for sure. Her father performed conversion therapy, like my classmates were discussing. Trying to scream at poor teens and children, and even some adults to "scare the demons away." Trying to turn kids heterosexual. Making sure no trans kid was left unpunished. What kind of life would that have been? So pathetic. It's so heartbreaking.

Stefan either doesn't remember this, or perhaps he doesn't want to remember, but he used to get punished terribly because he would play with dolls as a toddler. My mother loved a good hands-on punishment, like spanking or hitting. Practically beating my poor brother when he was only three years old. To the point where he wouldn't go near his room for a few days because his toy chest in there was filled with princess dolls he would steal from daycare.

I was able to remember, unfortunately, only because my mom used that story to teach me a lesson. I was only two when this happened. But I had been snooping around and knew that my parents had cameras. I would curiously watch them when they weren't in their bedroom. They used it to keep an eye on Stefan and I. I slowly began to remember when my mom told me that story. She tried to teach me that "boys who play with dolls are queer, so stay away from them." And "if you ever think about cutting your hair, you're a lesbian." Such harmful stereotypes that she tried to make me believe, but I knew from a young age that she was wrong. I tried my hardest not to fear being gay, but I was afraid, because of how they treated Stefan. Not because I thought it was wrong. Once I met Noa's family, I knew that loving who you wanted wasn't wrong. And I learned on my own that feeling out of place in the body you were born in doesn't make you a monster. It means you need to be authentic and true to yourself. So for the traumatized, two-year-old me, I will always stand proud from now on, even when others talk behind my back and call me nasty things. Because they're all wrong.

"Atarah, can you form a sentence using the words 'library, street, and backpack' in Spanish?" My teacher looks at me expectantly. I give her a blank stare in return, none of my knowledge relating to the Spanish language surfacing.

"Ummm?" All the kids start laughing. As per usual, Noa gave those girls a death stare Especially Crystal, and her best friend, Marieam, who were laughing the hardest. Mrs. Warren would sense the tension between us four. But I wasn't expecting her to call attention to it. She assigns a worksheet of Spanish vocabulary to unscramble for all the students, then leads Marieam, Crystal, Noa, and I out to the hallway.

"Girls, I've noticed some tension today in the classroom. Do I need to let your four work this out in the hall, quietly?"

"No, Mrs. Wa-"

"Yes," Noa interrupts. "I think that would be best. We won't be too long. Thank you."

Mrs. Warren leaves us to it. With only twenty minutes of class time left, Noa tries to rush our conversation, which the rest of us had no interest in. "You two need to knock it off and respect Lucian. He can't help that he was born as a female, but he's always been a boy. You need to just move on because teasing him isn't going to change his mind."

Marieam keeps her mouth shut, silently blaming Crystal for dragging her into this. But Crystal was ready to fight back with all the poor evidence she could pull out of her ass. "Atarah was built like all of us. Just because she might like the color blue or playing with cars doesn't mean she's a boy."

"That is the most stereotypical thing I've ever heard! Colors, interests, and clothes have no gender. They're objects, not people. That's why you don't label them," I explain.

"But we are people, and I can label you as a girl because it's clear as day you are one. Can we just get back to class, Noa? I'm done arguing about your sick friend over here. She's possessed!" She began to shout offensive slurs at me.

Noa's fists clench, and before I can reach out and pull her back, she's swinging at Crystal and just misses. It's up to Marieam and I to hold back the two. I called for Mrs. Warren, because I knew that if I kept this going, Noa would break something. Noa is practically suspended in my arms as she flails her arms and legs around like a fussy toddler, not wanting to leave the toy store. "You're such a bitch, you know that?!"

"Hey, hey!" Mrs. Warren calls out, rushing to break up... whatever this is.

"Leah calls you a whore behind your back!" Noa shouts, getting the last word in.

"Someone tell me what is going on here! Now, or you're all going to spend this afternoon in detention!"

I immediately let go of Noa, fearing what my parents would say if I earned a detention. My friend falls to the floor, her face red and starting to drip beads of sweat. I've never seen her so genuinely driven insane by someone's words. I feared what she would do if Crystal got off the hook for this one, but right now, I had to focus on the present. "Crystal and Marieam think it's funny that I have different views on things, Crystal called me an offensive slur, and Noa just wanted to stand up for me. She didn't hurt anyone."

Mrs. Warren nods her head slowly as she processes everything. "I see. Marieam and Crystal, detention. Noa, you're on thin ice for attempting to throw punches. And Atarah? Stay after class, please."

I'm starting to recognize a pattern. Can I expect this all day? All week? Longer?

***"So, Tarah, I heard that Noa got into a bit of trouble at school today. Ashe called your mom, because she was wondering if you had gotten sent home too," my dad says, right as he sits down at the table to join me and Stefan. My mom was out of town, staying with her friend for a couple days. But I try not to think about that.

I nearly choke on my chicken sandwich as the words fly out of his mouth. "Oh, that? Did she tell you what happened?"

"I assume you were involved?"

"Yes, but I didn't do anything!"

"I didn't say you did. I'd just like to know what happened, if you want to tell me."

"Well, you know that I never had the exact same beliefs as you and mom," I begin cautiously.

"And I respect everyone's opinions. But two girls in my class were... teasing me." I had to choose my words carefully.

"Why would they do that? They don't think you're gay, do they?" My dad practically whispers the word, making me want to get up and leave right then and there. Stefan finally looks up from his phone.

"No, dad. They think I'm sick. Like, in the head. They were saying I need conversion therapy."

"Is that something you're interested in trying?"

"W-what?" I completely froze. "No, what? Why would I do that? Do you seriously think I need such a thing?!"

Just then, my mom enters the house, making both of us forget what we were talking about for a moment. She didn't knock, but once we saw it was only her, we relaxed. Well, my dad did. I didn't, because she was holding my journal.

"Mom? What is that?"

"You should know. I didn't go through it yet, because I was going to give you a chance to explain. I got a call from Mrs. Miss Leroy. She said that this book caused a lot of distractions today. I want to know what is going on."

I get up from my seat, and snatch it out of her hands. "It's a journal, that's all."

"And, what, you started this drama because someone read it?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you seriously blaming this on me?! You don't even know what happened! You weren't there, just like you're never there for me at home. I thought for once, I could get a few days without you telling me what I did wrong! But if you want to know, Leah read this in front of everyone!"

I completely expected my mom to slap me until my face was red all over, and I think my dad did too, but instead, he just stands there. "What did you write, Atarah?" Her voice was eerily calm. "Was it something bad about your classmates?"

"No, not at all! Just, normal diary stuff. Embarrassing things that any high school kid would make fun of someone for."

"And what about the other calls I've been getting lately?"

"What other calls?" Chills run up past my spine, and the back of my neck turns warm. My stomach aches, and grumbles. I just wanted to eat."

"I've been getting calls from your algebra teacher. And your art teacher. You've been skipping class? I thought I raised you better than that!"

"You didn't raise me at all! You baby Stefan, and then you leave dad to make me fear you. That's how you two parent!" I didn't realize until now that I was crying.

My dad stands up, and is now interested in our fight. "No, we do not talk to your mom like that?"

"We? Yeah, because you're afraid of her too! Stand up for yourself! Stefan may be oblivious, but I know you two aren't fine! And I think that deserves more attention than the fact I've been skipping class!"

I sprint upstairs, leaving my phone in the kitchen, along with my food and my journal. As soon as my body meets my bed, I let out a shaky sigh. I turn onto my side, facing the bare wall, and cry for so long that I lose track of time. I didn't even bother looking at my clock. I was supposed to text Noa around seven thirty, so I could keep her updated about how my day was going. The teasing, and laughing, and names I got called continued in every class. By the end of the day, everyone was calling me a monster. They even started to believe that I was possessed by a demon that was making me feel this way.

I finally sit up and wipe my tears when I hear a faint knock on my door. I opened it up, and to my surprise, Stefan was standing there, holding my notebook. "Don't worry. Nobody read it. And, I don't blame you for blowing up. Just, try to stay out of trouble. I know they don't go easy on you."

Stefan has never been one to show his emotions. He shuts people out. If he had any sympathy for me or others, he never showed it. We aren't even that close, really. I definitely didn't expect this from him. He acted so oblivious most of the time, I forget that sometimes he does pay attention, and has his own opinions. I nearly let it all out and told him what happened at school today, but he had already left. I sit back down on my bed, and reread the words I wrote over and over again. The words that Leah read out loud to everyone in class.

"Nobody around here even tries to understand. It's seemingly impossible to ever break this cycle of homophobia and transphobia in this town. My classmates were already taught by their parents to be close minded and turn against trans kids like me. If they knew, my reputation would be ruined. But that still would be the least of my problems. I don't care what these kids think. I was to be Lucian, in a place where people accept me, or at least even try to put in any effort at all to listen to what I have to say, even though I am different."

I read the words over and over again until I can't make sense of them anymore. They turn into blurs as tears once again form in my eyes, and trickle down my cheeks. I figured after sometime that how I feel isn't ever going to change, and neither are my parent's views. I really don't see that happening, so what if I just come clean? I can only control what I do, and not the people around me. But my feelings will always be true, any time and anywhere.

I take a deep breath before standing up, and marching downstairs to my parents, who were both sitting on the couch, discussing my "behavioral issues."

"Mom, dad, I have something to tell you."

My dad stands up, assuming that I wanted to keep this between my mom and I, but I motion for him to sit back down.

"Are you ready to talk about why you've been skipping classes?" My mom asks, making room for me to sit between them.

"I've had a lot on my mind lately. And I guess I put how people were making me feel above my grades."

"Well there's nothing wrong with taking a day off for yourself every now and then," my dad says, which surprised me.

It even surprised my mom, who responded by saying, "Absolutely not. School comes first. Do we need to send you to another school so you won't have those distractions?"

"Huh? Is..is that an option?" I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a threat, but it gave me the smallest glimpse of hope when my mother brought it up.

My dad lets out a loud sigh. "Atarah, you never met your uncle Damien."

"You mean Lora?"

"Yes. Lora. She- H-he... They live in a place here in Nebraska, actually. On the other side of the state, though. But your mom and I think that given your... recent rebellious state needs to be handled with a fresh start. We've noticed these changes in you lately. We think it's best if you consider finishing the school year there to see if you like it."

"What would the school be like?" I ask, actually considering it.

"Well, they welcome boys and girls, from all over the place. They have a much more strict policy on bullying, and have better security. And, they do actually have a lot of... gay people there, and people like that. I know you've never minded those people, so I figured you would like it there."

I knew the main reason they wanted this for me was so I wouldn't be able to get away with skipping class, and they didn't have to be responsible for me anymore. They were right, that ever since I was around ten years old, I've been different. It started with snapping at them every now and then, but now I've become more isolated, and down. I just went along with it, completely discarding my plan of coming out. No, that would wait until after I'm sure of staying with my aunt Lora.

"I can't believe Lora actually lives in Nebraska."

"Well, you know we never speak anymore, but she had actually reached out yesterday, when she found out about Gram Gram. Your mom just messaged her, asking if that would be something she'd be interested in. I wasn't so sure at first, but after today, we really think this could be good for you. It's almost five hours away, so we want you to think about it for a while."

I could tell by the look on my mother's face that she wasn't happy, but I couldn't understand why. I figured she would just love to be rid of me. My dad seemed so sure of this idea, too, which kind of scared me. What are they really thinking? What will they gain from this?

But then, the answer to all my questions is answered. My mom stands up, and looks at me with a quivering, hopeful smile. But I could tell that she was genuinely hurt to speak these next words. "Honey, there's another thing. We've been discussing this for quite a while, and now that we see just how badly you've been affected by school, and probably us too, we're just going to... break the news. Sweetie, your father and I are getting a divorce."