I feel the scratchy fabric of the twirly dress in my hands. Its little green flowers opening up and smiling at me. The edges are faded and worn from the years of love my mother has given it. She hasn’t worn this dress in 3 years. She won’t even miss it. With newfound courage I slip the dress over my head and admire myself in the mirror. I’m tall enough now so that the dress hangs neatly above my knees. I ran my hands down my sides, admiring the way it clings to my body. If only I had the chest to fill it, I think to myself. I spin in a circle and the dress flares out, going above my waist and opening to the room. 

Ca chink, ca chink, I hear my moms key in the lock. Quickly I pull off the dress and run across the hall to my room. I tuck the dress deep into my backpack and slip on a hoodie and a pair of my brother's baggy jeans.

“I’m home!” my mom calls from downstairs. I can hear her dropping her bags in the foyer and going to the kitchen. She begins pulling pots and pans out of the cabinets. 

“I’m getting dinner started, Will. Come down and help me!” she shouts, pots clattering to the floor around her. If there is one thing my mom knows how to do, it’s make a lot of noise.

“Coming!” I cry, hopping down the stairs. She rests her hands on her hips and looks at me, her lips pursed together and her brows furrowed. Can she see right through me? Can she see the guilt that was eating me up inside?

“What are you wearing,” she whispers. 

“Clothes,” I grumble, trying to figure out if she saw me placing the red dress in my bag.

“Those jeans are disgusting! Go find your brother and change,” she sighs, pulling her bleached blonde hair out of her face and into a tight messy bun. I let out a sigh of relief and nod ok. I used to never lie to my mom. I used to tell her everything. But that’s not an option anymore. How are you supposed to tell your mom that you want to be a girl? You just can’t. So you pretend. And when she’s not looking you try on her dresses and put on her makeup and pretend that you're you. 

Once we finish dinner my brother does his traditional, I’m leaving now to hang out with friends, which always makes my mom angry. So she takes it out on me and yells at me for not clearing my plate, which I did, but I clear the extra plate anyways because that’s what you do when your mom is angry and starts yelling at you. After the usual her getting upset at me and then flopping down on the couch in tears she all of a sudden perks up and asks if I want to watch The Devil Wears Pradas with her, which no duh I want to because The Devil Wears Pradas is a masterpiece. After that I go to bed, well fed and happy, and I almost forget that I’m completely miserable. 

The next morning when I wake up my stomach drops. I look to my backpack and remember the dress, folded neatly at the bottom. How long till she realizes it's missing?  As I gently crawl out of bed I step on the cat, who yowls and looks at me as if I’ve murdered her entire family. 

“Stupid cat,” I grumble, kicking her to the side. Mom’s probably still asleep because there isn’t any banging downstairs. I gingerly tug on a pair of sweatpants, trying to avoid the creaking floorboard that is bound to wake up my light sleeping brother. I slip on my jacket and toss my backpack over one shoulder. Sneaking out isn’t really my style. It’s more my brother’s thing. But I think that this is a situation that calls for this. As I sneak down the stairs even the fear in my stomach can’t hide the fact that I’m hungry. So I go grab a banana. Who knew that my mom, who can never get herself out of bed before 9, had super sonic hearing and would be able to hear me prying the banana off of its twin. Because the moment I take one step away from the fruit bowl my mom is standing there with her brow furrowed and that disappointed mom face.

“Will Hunter Meyers,” she clucked, shaking her head back and forth, “What are you doing, leaving the house at 5 in the morning?” Thinking fast I quickly hit her with something she can never say no to.

“Kayla just broke up with Adam so I’m going over there to comfort her. We also have a math test today that we want to study for.” If there is anything my mom knows, it’s breakups.

“Will, stop acting like I’m stupid,” she sighs, shaking her head again in disappointment.  Does she realize? Can she see the fear that I’m hiding behind my eyes?

“What are you talking about?” I ask warrily.

“You are a young man and Kayla is a young woman. I know that thing with Adam has been over for a while. I’ve been waiting for you two to get together for a long time,” she laughs. I stare at her in disbelief. 

“No, mom! It’s not like that! Me and Kayla aren’t a thing! Gross!” I shriek. She chuckles and rests her hands firmly on her hips.

“Ok, whatever you say! Have fun!” she giggles making her way back to bed. I shudder trying to get the thought of what mom was saying out of my head. I run out the front door, hop onto my bike and quickly peddle away. I’m not really going over to Kayla’s. I can’t trust her to keep my plan a secret. 

As I reach the shopping center the thoughts that I had forgotten about crawl their way back into my mind. What if they won’t sell me it? Don’t be stupid of course they will sell you it! What if Mrs. Greene is here and she tells my mom? Why would Mrs. Greene be here at 5:30 on a Monday morning? What if someone from school is here? No one from Arthur Katching High School would be at the Cesterfield Shopping Center on a Monday morning. I park my bike in front of the drugstore and take a deep breath. Everything is going to be ok. It is all going to work out. A gust of cool air blows over me as I step into the store. They have just opened so the only person in there is a teenage girl, smacking on her gum and reading a tabloid. I quickly walk into the section I am looking for. I had been to the makeup aisle plenty of times with my mom, but I never bought anything from there. I could just use my mom’s or Kayla’s makeup but one of them was bound to notice it was missing.I quickly grab everything I thought I might need. A black eyeliner pencil, blush, concealer. The girl looks up at me with a skeptical look on her face as I dump all of the items on the counter. 

“Just these, please,” I whisper, trying to get her to stop looking at me. She shrugs her shoulders and puts everything in a bag. As I walk out the plastic handle crinkles in my hand. Am I really going to do this? I have known my whole life that I wasn’t a boy, so why is this moment so scary? All I was going to do was put the makeup on when I got to school. If people left me alone then I would put on the dress. Just to see what would happen. Maybe people weren’t as crappy as I thought they were. Maybe no one would care. Who am I kidding, I think to myself as I bike away from the stores and towards the school. It’s 6:00 now and the roads are starting to crowd up. I know that the only thing they can see is the drugstore shopping bag, but I feel like I’m in that red dress with a full face of clown makeup. It’s as if everyone is staring at me and laughing, laughing at the boy who wants to be a girl. I bite my lip and try to go faster, to get away from the looks and shrieks, but it's no use. The words are now pounding on my head. Boy, boy, they think you're a boy. They would be stupid to think you’re a girl. You will never be a girl. Everyone will just laugh at you. 

“Leave me alone,” I hiss under my breath. The school building is coming up in the distance and the thoughts are real now. Kids are already entering the front doors. I don’t have much time if I want to be ready before homeroom starts. I run into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My face is red and puffy from biking all morning and my eyes are purple and sunken from waking up so early. Makeup can’t fix the fact that I look like this. I do what I usually do. Powder on my face, a little bit of blush, concealer to cover up the mountain of pimples. Finally I do a perfect winged eyeliner. I look and feel amazing and I still have 5 minutes to get to class. As I step out into the hallway, I finally feel safe. I feel like me. Kayla runs up to me with a confused look on her face.

“What are you doing?” she asks, linking her fingers into mine. I shrug my shoulders and smile at her. She nods like she understands and drops my hand. The crease in between her eyebrows stays. As we walk down the hall I get a few stares and whispers, nothing out of the ordinary. I’m feeling light and breezy. I’m laughing with Kayla and a few people even smile and wave at me. We reach my homeroom and Kayla looks at me, still worried.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok?” she whispers. I nod and run my fingers through my hair.

“I’ll be alright, promise,” I laugh, interlocking my pinky with her’s. She laughs back and waves goodbye. As I face the door to Ms. Raley’s homeroom class I take a deep breath. I’ll have to face everyone now all by myself. No Kayla with her quick thinking or looking down at the ground to protect me. The door swings open and I look around. Ms. Raley isn’t in the room. It’s just a group of girls and… the popular boys. I look down and try to not call any attention to myself as I step towards the back of the room.

“Hey, Will!” one of the girls call, “I think that Ms. Raley’s homeroom is meeting in the Gym today.” 

“Oh, um, thanks,” I mumble, trying to escape the room as soon as possible. 

“Will!” one of the boys, Max, booms across the room, “Come over here, buddy!” I quickly shake my head and try to open the door, but one of them has grabbed me by the hood of my sweatshirt and pulled me back towards their desks. The taller one, Sam, pulls my head back and looks at my face in disgust.

“Dude, what are you wearing? You some kind of girl or something?” he guffaws, all of his friends screaming as if it is the funniest thing in the world.

“I think we need to take it away from him,” Max interjects. They all shout again and Sam rips open my backpack.

“No!” I cry, reaching out for it. What will they do when they find the dress? I’m so done for. Sam digs around for a while. He smiles at me slyly as he pulls the dress out of my bag. 

“What is this?” he questions dangling it above my head. I try to grab it from him but he just laughs and holds it higher. Someone pushes me and I fall to the ground. I bite my lip trying to hold back the tears. 

“I think he’s gonna cry!” one of the girls shriek. 

“Stop it,” I whisper. They all laugh louder. Max kicks me and Sam dangles the dress higher above my head. 

“Stop it,” I say, louder this time. 

“Aw, the poor little girl wants us to stop,” Sam muses in a fake baby voice. I flinch as two more boys start kicking me. The girls shriek with laughter and cheer on Sam who dumps on the contents of my backpack on top of me. 

“Stop it,” I say firmly, sitting up. They continue to kick and laugh at me. Sam pulls a stray thread on the dress and then smiles as he begins ripping it down the center.

“Stop it!” I scream flying up from the ground and with more power than I thought I could ever muster, I slam Sam against the wall.

“What’s going on?” I flip around and Sam falls to the ground. Ms. Raley is standing there looking at me in shock. 

“I came to see where you were and this is what I find you doing? Please explain yourself!” I look down at my sneakers. I don’t know what to say. How can I explain anything? 

“Get to class. Mr. Meyers, go wash off your face,” she says, shaking her head at me. I quickly put my items into my bag and press the dress, now with a noticeable rip, under my arm. Once I’m out the door I can’t hold the tears in any longer. I run down the hallway to the bathroom, falling against the cool floor. Why did I choose to do this? I don’t even know what I was trying to prove. I lay on the ground until there are no more tears left to cry. Maybe I was tired of it all. Maybe I was tired of having to pretend. As I sit up I see the beautiful red dress with the rip. I wanted to wear that dress in person so much. I wanted other people to see how beautiful it looked on me. How much I looked like me in it. I slip the dress over my head and smile myself in the mirror. The dress looks better on me today than it did yesterday. Makeup is running down my face, but I don’t care. I toss my backpack over my shoulder and trudge out of the bathroom. Kayla runs up to me and pulls me up against the wall.

“Are you alright? I heard you tried to kill Sam! What happened? Why are you wearing that?” she questions, talking so fast that her head is moving back and forth. I shake my head at her and keep walking. I don’t need Kayla to protect me from the stares, laughter, and teasing. I’m so tired of all of it. At least now, people know. And maybe I can gather up the courage to tell mom. And maybe, just maybe, everything will start to get better.