Androgyny

The first day of high school (11th grade) was a mystery to me. Up until then I had been living with my mother, who homeschooled me. Dad fought for me in court and brought me home. He said he wanted to get to know the son he never had. I did not hate my mother. But I was not sad to go. I used to live in London, England. Now I was in NY. I’ve always wanted to travel the world. Moving in with my father had been a start.

I was seventeen and clueless about the world. I wore a yellow cardigan and ripped jean shorts that went up to my knees. It was the manliest thing I’ve worn. I walked through the front door nervously. I wasn’t sure how this whole high school thing worked. I doubted that I would make any friends.

By second period a crowd of boys were forming. They waited on me hand and foot. I liked the attention a lot. No one was allowed to be my friend back in London. Mother warned them to stay away from me. She spread a rumor that I was infected with a highly contagious disease. Mother was my only company.

I got a boyfriend by the end of the second month. His name was Mitch Barkley and he was on the football team. A few weeks after we started dating, Mitch took me to the movies. We had the theater all to ourselves. Half way through the movie he turned to me and kissed me. I of course, kissed back. He slid his hand under my shirt and…yelled.

He pushed away from me and stared at me with wide eyes. “Y-you’re a man,” he stuttered.

I shook my head, grabbed my coat, and left the movie theater. Mitch was my ride but I walked three miles in the dark to get home. I cried for more than half of the way.

The next two years of school was terrible. Mitch told everyone. I was…shocked. I thought everyone knew that I was a boy. Students threw foot at me, tripped me in the hall, pushed me into lockers, and tossed my stuff into the fountain. I was a human punching bag for their anger. There were teachers that drooled over me. When they saw me in the hall, they’d slap my ass if no one was looking. If they saw me being bullied, they would keep walking.

I never told Dad about anything that happened. He was busy at work. As much as he wanted me to stay, he knew he had to work for it. In a short time, we developed a close relationship. He wouldn’t give me up. We spent the time we could together. I was not going to make him worry about silly little issues.

Over time I grew…bitter. Or so they say. During my last few months at SOTA I was in plenty of fights. I hit the bullies back. I yelled at the teachers. But I did all of my work. I got amazing grades and reports. None of the teachers dared to call Dad about my behavior. I threatened all of them with sexual harassment. I was a perfect child…in the eyes of society. They only problem was my girlish appearance.

This year I’m going to college. I couldn’t wait. I didn’t want a new beginning. No. I wanted to bash the faces of those who dare to make fun of me.

That’s how I relieve stress.