Turning
Three
“You have to options. Number one is getting a surgery to reverse you back to a man, which isn’t fool proof and hurts like hell. Number two is sending you to a different school.” I opened my mouth to protest but Dad held his hand up to stop me. “Listen, Harley, you can’t go to school looking the way you are. Everyone is used to you being a boy. This change is only going to make things worse for you.”
I wanted to argue, mostly because he was the one who got me into this mess. He couldn’t take his time to make sure he got the right pills before rushing back to work. But, and I hate to admit it, he has a good point. This would turn me from Fag Bag to Girl Pants.
“As long as I get to pick the school,” I agreed reluctantly.
“No.” Dad fished a pamphlet from his pocket and slid it across the island counter. The front picture was of a large gothic school that looked more like a cathedral. It read Hexington Academy on top. “This is where you will be going. It’s seven hours away from home and you have already been enrolled.”
“Seven hours,” I exclaimed. “I am not driving back and forth seven hours!”
This man was insane! Obviously I got my rational side from my stripper mother. Seven hours away from home was way too far. I couldn’t even bump into my old friends on the street. Not to mention that Hexington was known for its bad weather…I think.
“They have dorm on campus,” Dad explained. “I would have never gone for this if you had to drive. Eugene approves of this school and said that the finest students go there. Plus, it’s far enough that you don’t have a chance of running into any old friends.” There goes my plan. “Now go pack and be down here in an hour. We leave immediately.”
I sighed and ran upstairs to pack. I grabbed a bigger version of the Fag Bag and stuffed my DVDs, DVD player, iPod, clothes, and sheets. One can never leave your sheets and pillow cases behind when going camp or a boarding school. So many other people have slept on the bed and who knows what they have? Aids, HIV, rabies, herpes, etc. Getting an incurable disease was not my plan for the future.
I picked up my cell phone from the floor and noticed that I had twenty missed calls and forty-nine text messages. Some were from my other friends, but most were from Ivy. I had to remember to call her when I get to the academy.
“Harley, let’s go!”
I looked around my room once more and slung the Fag Bag over my shoulder. I was going to miss this room and this town. There was so much I could be doing. So much I should be doing. Here. With my friends, as odd as they are. Instead I am going to be spending the year at Hexington.
I tossed on a very loose striped dress shirt over my head and accidently brushed my oversized chest. Okay, it was time to go. The faster I leave, the faster they can get to work finding a cure, the faster I get back to normal.
Oh, how I wanted to be normal again.
I wanted to argue, mostly because he was the one who got me into this mess. He couldn’t take his time to make sure he got the right pills before rushing back to work. But, and I hate to admit it, he has a good point. This would turn me from Fag Bag to Girl Pants.
“As long as I get to pick the school,” I agreed reluctantly.
“No.” Dad fished a pamphlet from his pocket and slid it across the island counter. The front picture was of a large gothic school that looked more like a cathedral. It read Hexington Academy on top. “This is where you will be going. It’s seven hours away from home and you have already been enrolled.”
“Seven hours,” I exclaimed. “I am not driving back and forth seven hours!”
This man was insane! Obviously I got my rational side from my stripper mother. Seven hours away from home was way too far. I couldn’t even bump into my old friends on the street. Not to mention that Hexington was known for its bad weather…I think.
“They have dorm on campus,” Dad explained. “I would have never gone for this if you had to drive. Eugene approves of this school and said that the finest students go there. Plus, it’s far enough that you don’t have a chance of running into any old friends.” There goes my plan. “Now go pack and be down here in an hour. We leave immediately.”
I sighed and ran upstairs to pack. I grabbed a bigger version of the Fag Bag and stuffed my DVDs, DVD player, iPod, clothes, and sheets. One can never leave your sheets and pillow cases behind when going camp or a boarding school. So many other people have slept on the bed and who knows what they have? Aids, HIV, rabies, herpes, etc. Getting an incurable disease was not my plan for the future.
I picked up my cell phone from the floor and noticed that I had twenty missed calls and forty-nine text messages. Some were from my other friends, but most were from Ivy. I had to remember to call her when I get to the academy.
“Harley, let’s go!”
I looked around my room once more and slung the Fag Bag over my shoulder. I was going to miss this room and this town. There was so much I could be doing. So much I should be doing. Here. With my friends, as odd as they are. Instead I am going to be spending the year at Hexington.
I tossed on a very loose striped dress shirt over my head and accidently brushed my oversized chest. Okay, it was time to go. The faster I leave, the faster they can get to work finding a cure, the faster I get back to normal.
Oh, how I wanted to be normal again.
♠ ♠ ♠
It's short, but it's still an update.