Like The Brightest Star, You Shine Through

I take one last look at myself in the mirror, making sure nothing looks out of line or weird about me, and that my outfit looks okay. With a frown on my face, my eyes examine my reflection and my teeth sink into my bottom lip as a quiet sigh escapes past my lips. The skinny jeans cling tightly to my legs and I thank God that I was born with the most girly legs I have ever seen on a male body. My blue Set Your Goals shirt is a bit baggy, but is still small enough to show off my figure, which is fortunately not too masculine and not too feminine, yet not feminine enough.

My long hair falls perfectly over my shoulder and hides just enough of my face, and the foundation on my face hides the dark bags under my eyes just fine. I made sure to apply a thin ring of eyeliner around my eyes, but nothing else. I take one step back from the mirror to allow myself to see my reflection more easily, taking my appearance in and deciding I look presentable enough to go out in public.

I’m always nervous when I get ready in the morning. Normal people don’t spend half an hour staring at themselves in the mirror, wondering if they look like they can pass okay. By that, I mean I can’t leave the house without knowing for a fact that I look as feminine as I want to look. It’s hard to tell if I’ll pass because I’m so incredibly biased. I know for a fact I’m inside a male’s body, so that’s always going to be obvious to me. But other people might not see that, so I don’t know. The only people’s opinions I have are my parent’s.

Sighing softly to myself and directing a nervous nod towards my reflection in the mirror, I grab my backpack from the computer chair in front of my desk. I hum softly to myself as I slide the straps onto my shoulders and walk out of my room to make my way down the stairs, towards the kitchen. As soon as I step through the threshold into the tiled room, I see my mother cleaning up this morning’s dishes from breakfast, and my younger sister still slowly eating away at her cereal, my father already long gone into work.

“You look pretty today!” Zoey, my sister, says from her seat at the table, a wide grin spread across her young face. “I like your hair.”

She’s only in fifth grade, so she doesn’t quite understand why I dress this way. Yet she doesn’t think it’s weird at all, and that really means a lot to me. Kids her age judge anyone who isn’t considered ‘normal’, and they’re quick to do so. I’m just glad my sister’s the way she is, and not so ‘normal’ herself.

I smile at her and reach for a piece of buttered toast on a plate in the middle of the table, reaching over with my other hand to gently pat her back. “Thanks, Zo,” I reply as I take half a piece of toast and glance over my mom.

“Just be careful,” she murmurs, her head turned to look at me from over her shoulder. “Being the kind of person you are can get you into a lot of drama, and cause a lot of unwanted attention.”

Sighing softly and rolling my eyes, I slowly nod my head before taking a small bite of toast. “I know, I know,” I mumble. “Believe me, I’m careful. I don’t even have friends to talk to and spill my secret to, so you definitely have nothing to worry about.”

Ever since the day I came clean about how I felt towards my sexuality and being, my mom’s been over protective of me. Not in the ‘we can’t let this get out into the public’ sort of way, but more so in the ‘I don’t want you hurting’ kind of way. I really do appreciate it, but she’s always on my case, every single day, about me being careful and making sure this is what I want to do. It’s not that she doubts me, really. I know she just wants an easier life for me. But when is life ever easy, for anyone?

I glance at the clock on the wall and sigh to myself before quickly finishing my toast. I lean down to kiss Zoey on the cheek then walk over to my mom, quickly doing the same to her. I guess you could say we’re a close family. I’ve been close as ever with my parents since I told them my secret and they were one hundred percent open minded. I do as they say and make no trouble, and they leave me to do almost anything I want, as long as it’s legal and somewhat safe.

Walking past the coffee table in the living room towards the door, I grab my cell phone off the surface. I always leave it downstairs since I don’t have anyone to text at all anyway, and I don’t want it waking me up in the middle of the night with some call, from whoever it’d be. It’d more likely be a wrong number or butt dial, than be from someone I actually know. Hell, I don’t even know anyone from my school. When people say they have no friends, they usually have three or five, or some number around there. Me? None. At all. Whatsoever. I can’t afford to have friends. I’m too scared of my secret getting out.

I guess I pass just well enough at school, considering everyone believes I actually am a girl. Maybe they think I’m a chick that looks like a guy, or maybe they don’t, but I don’t give a fuck, just as long as they believe I am what I want to be. That’s all that matters to me.

I pull out my iPod from my back pocket and quickly slip my oversized headphones onto my head, immediately pressing play and turning the volume up as high as it can go. Anyone in a two meter distance from me can hear my music clearly, thanks to my amazing headphones. The bass thumps my head and I’m almost positive I can feel my brain rattle inside my skull, and I smile slightly to myself. The feeling is like sex. Not that I’d know.

Sighing softly to myself, I begin my journey to school on foot, going through the shuffle setting on my iPod until I get to a good song I can tolerate this morning. I slide my phone into my pocket and my iPod back into my back one before bringing both my hands in front of me and cracking my knuckles, a loud pop sound emitting from them.

It’s a short walk to school, maybe five to ten minutes, as it’s just down the street from my suburban home. I chew on my lip as I step onto school property, glancing around at all the stereotypical cliques talking amongst themselves. The stoners talking about who’s buying this week and when, the jocks talking about practice, the ‘popular girls’ discussing shoes and clothes and all that shit. Yeah, I may be a lot more feminine than I should be, but I’m still not like those airheads. There’s a difference between not feeling comfortable with your genitals, and being full out girly.

Keeping my eyes on my feet, I trudge towards the steps in front of the front doors and drop my back on the edge, sitting down beside it with a small sigh pushing past my lips. I always sit here, for two reasons. Mostly, I get to class sooner and can dodge the crowds and loud buzzing noise of talking teenagers. Secondly, it’s not like I have anywhere else better to spend my time. I mean, I have no friends to stand around and talk to anyway, so I might as well be a lazy ass and sit around on my own. But I don’t mind.

It’s a few minutes before I barely hear the bell ring over my music and I jump up, quickly grabbing my bag and sliding the straps onto my shoulders, hurrying through the doors and down the hallway, towards my first period class. I have the hallways to myself for about thirty seconds before I hear the roar of chatter, laughter, and footsteps follow behind me. Before the hallway can get to crowded, I step into the classroom, obviously being the first one. I flash Mrs. McMillan a quick smile before making my way towards the back of the classroom and dropping my bag down beside my desk, immediately taking my seat and starting to wait.