Riley was a problem. The first day, Morgana had dismissed it as nerves; he was not a charismatic boy. Of course it would take a few days for him to get accustomed to her way of doing things. A week was all she was willing to give, though.

  This was nothing like the loving sibling retionship she’d pictured. Riley was messy, withdrawn, and mostly communicated by muttering darkly under his breath. Now and then, she’d catch some weird misogynistic remarks that the Internet told her was “incel” rhetoric. Apparently it meant he was having trouble finding a girlfriend; Morgana had no trouble understanding why. Going on a real date with a real woman might not fix him, but it would at least get him out of the house.

  Today, she was jammed tightly in the minuscule standing room her shed offered, one foot on top of a reference manual that had fallen to the floor. With a cotton mask to protect herself from fumes, Morgana pulled a small eyedropper from her solution and dribbled it onto a rusty padlock ying on the table. It fizzed and bubbled as the corroded surface softened, and a silvery iron hue returned to the artifact.

  A loud banging on the door made her jump and bump into the table. The delicate solution, now startled, became agitated and turned foul. Coughing at the foul odor it emitted while melting the lock, Morgana squeezed her eyes shut and yanked off the mask.

  “What do you want?!”

  “You didn’t buy the soda I asked for!”

  She wanted to scream, but instead she took a deep breath and said, “It wasn’t in the budget. I told you that.”

  He muttered something under his breath and walked away. Morgana rubbed her temples and waved away the lingering fumes. Her test was ruined; she’d need another sample, and the batch she’d whipped up had a short shelf life. Pushing herself beyond her limits was getting harder with each passing year, but the dividends weren’t adding up fast enough to match the cost of living. For the first time since she’d started her career, Morgana’s savings were depleting.

  There wasn’t room to sit, so Morgana leaned against the shelves and picked up the test issue of Modern Magnus, the one that already had a coffee stain on the cover. People scoffed at alchemists having a scientific journal, but it was prestigious and a good source of inspiration. Only the best experiments got featured, and being featured was the best way for an alchemist to set themselves up for long-term success, maybe the only way if you were a true self-starter.

  Another loud bang at the door caused her to yelp and hit the shelves, sending several books tumbling.

  “What?!”

  “Jeez! Sorry! You’re out of toilet paper. Thought you’d want to know.”

  He departed, still muttering darkly.

  Morgana rubbed her eyes, struggling to push down a growing headache. Riley definitely needed more than a girlfriend. Maybe he needed therapy, but that would take forever to pay off. Worse, a nosy therapist might demand that Morgana make sacrifices to “accommodate his needs”; she’d seen it happen before. This was her house, and she was going to be respected in it!

  What had made Riley like this? His own mother was a clean, polite dy, and none of her good qualities had rubbed off on him. Maybe that was the curse of being a guy. A sweet, demure girl Riley would respect Morgana’s home more, could give her the sisterly retionship she’d never had, and might even have a shot at dating Lynn. Morgana suspected that she could convince him to do just about anything if she found a way to use Lynn as bait. And Angelina would surely appreciate giving her roommate something to focus on besides bring rock music and smoking.

  While she mused, Morgana’s gaze drifted across her alchemy supplies. Little ideas started to fuse together in her head. You could easily change a person’s body with the right formu, and what was the mind but an extension of the physical self? There were limits to what you could do with alchemy—Morgana wasn’t able to change someone’s personality beyond what traditional mood stabilizers could accomplish—but behaviors could be trained. Riley was pretty insecure, and while that made him unlikely to freely embrace becoming a girl in a world where trans people were heavily scrutinized, he was clearly wanting for guidance. If she could get past the hurdle of convincing him to try, if he could st just a few weeks for his brain to adjust to a new hormone bance, if she took the time to teach him how to be a girl, Riley would come to understand that it was just better.

  The FDA didn’t love alchemy, but it tolerated the practice in instances of drug-resistant ailments or as a way to avoid dangerous medicinal combinations; there was even a b in town that periodically contracted Morgana to come in and develop small batches to fill prescriptions. Of course, the FDA had no power over what a person put into their own body willingly. Alchemists shared experimental techniques for breast growth, hair growth, fat redistribution, facial hair removal, facial hair growth. Some of these were specifically for gray market Hormone Repcement Therapy, much more focused than a generic estradiol or testosterone repcement, but Morgana had yet to see anyone develop a potent, fast-acting, and inexpensive comprehensive treatment. She didn’t have the capital to start from scratch, but while she wasn’t much of an innovator, Morgana was a phenomenal optimizer.

  She shook her head. It was a great idea, especially in this political climate; alchemists were typically pretty liberal, and a statement piece like this would certainly get her in the big book. But it would take months of experimentation and data collection, and Riley would have to be a willing participant the whole time. One pusible rumor that she tricked or coerced him would be all it took to get Morgana bcklisted from the industry. And the odds of Riley blooming into such a perfect young woman as to convince the powers-that-be to fund additional testing were low. This was a huge gamble; she would need to do some research if she had any hope of stacking the deck in her favor.

  Riley had resigned himself to a miserable summer with too few snacks and no friends to hang with. He hadn’t even changed out of the T-shirt and boxers he’d slept in the night before, despite it being nearly dinner time. All he could do was y in bed and listen to Papa Roach bring in his headphones. Riley didn’t even hear knocking until the door was rattling in its frame.

  “Riley, open up!”

  He groaned and peeled himself off the comforter. When he opened the door, Morgana stepped in and immediately wrinkled her nose. She scanned the room, taking in how much trash had piled up in a week. It must have been the first time she was confronted with what a pce to live normally looked like.

  “Ugh! Um, I wanted to show you something.” She held up a folder with a few papers sticking out. “There’s a way you might be able to date Lynn after all.”

  Riley raised an eyebrow. Where could this possibly be going? Morgana didn’t seem like the kind of person to believe in conversion therapy, and if that’s what she was about to suggest, he’d have to call Adam and beg to be rescued.

  When she actually showed him the things she’d printed off, his stomach churned.

  Morgana expined, “I found examples of guys like you, who haven’t been able to get a girlfriend, so they decided to medically transition and live as a girl. All of them ended much happier for it. This might be the only way to make Lynn interested.”

  “Fuck off!” Riley snarled, knocking her hand away. “First off, I’m not trans. You can’t just become transgender, and I’m not going to embarrass myself by pretending to be, either. There’s a huge difference between being a woman in a man’s body and being a failure of a man.” His face burned. “And I’m also not that either just because no girl has given me a fair shot.”

  This was marginally better than suggesting they try to “straighten out” Lynn, but not by much. Riley wasn’t stupid. He always downvoted posts and comments from incels who were just being homophobic or transphobic, but Morgana was acting like being gay or trans was a choice.

  Morgana pressed on. “I found an FAQ that talks about this stuff. It says that becoming a girl is proven to alleviate the stress of being an—” She coughed; it looked fake. “—of not having a girlfriend. And not everybody who does it ends up exclusively attracted to men, either, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I have it hard enough already without walking around town as a man in a dress like I’m inviting harassment from people. Have you seen the things people say about trans women? What fucking bathroom would I even use? There’s not usually a sign for ‘I’m not really a girl, but I’m desperate to be coddled, so be nice to me,’ unless you really do things differently in the city.”

  “Actually, I thought of that, sort of.” There was a twinkle in her eye. “You wouldn’t have to worry about people not seeing you as a girl. I should be able to brew up a regiment of potions that allows you to medically transition quickly and painlessly. By the end of the summer, you’d look like any other girl except for…” She gestured at her pelvis area.

  Rolling his eyes, Riley stood up and grabbed a pair of jeans hanging from a bedpost. “Yeah, no fucking thank you. I’m going… for a fucking walk, I guess. And it’s getting te, just in case you forgot about dinner.”

  Riley’s meandering took him back to the pool, which was only minimally occupied this te in the day. Over by the showers and lockers was a pool house for equipment and supplies, and just outside that were two vending machines. Tapping his card on the reader, Riley grabbed himself a bag of chips and a Coke. Whatever Morgana made for dinner, it wasn’t going to be as satisfying, anyway.

  He stood by the trashcan and munched on his snack, occasionally gncing at the kids still having fun in the pool. Adam had told him to take advantage of it, but of course he’d spent his own college years working hard and securing his future instead, like a man was supposed to do. If Riley had been born a girl, he would have had a much easier time keeping friends and finding excuses to rex instead of study. Now his own cousin was saying what nobody else had the balls to: Riley had so little potential as a man, he might as well give it up entirely.

  Done with his snacks, Riley tossed the packaging and kept walking, following the sidewalk to the mailboxes and beyond.

  What would his father think? Riley’s dad had cimed to be proud that Riley got into community college, but he didn’t think Riley deserved to live at home for the summer. Sending him to live with Morgana was just a way to get the disappointment out of the house. And he wasn’t wrong to think that Riley had no hope of living up to Adam’s example.

  His mom always talked about how grateful she was not to have any daughters, made subtle remarks that Riley should be gd he was a man instead. Riley still thought he could have grit his teeth and endured makeup and dresses if it meant not having to bear with the role thrust onto him. But it was only significantly easier to be a woman if you had a working husband or a sugar daddy or a bunch of simps, and Riley wasn’t going to pretend to be gay so he could be provided for. Was it really gay if he was the girl in that scenario? It sure felt gay.

  The walk brought him to the “Popr Downs” sign that marked the entrance to the neighborhood. He stared out at the rger main road, devoid of any trees, where cars raced passed without taking notice of him. Across the street, he could see a strip mall but no crosswalk that could get him there.

  Riley could end up living for another eighty years, and he didn’t want to feel this way for the better part of a century. He turned around and started walking back to the house. If there was nothing else to lose, he might as well get a girlfriend.

  Sitting in front of his Kraft macaroni and cheese, across from Morgana, what little confidence Riley had withered away quickly. She was watching him expectantly but too afraid to broach the topic herself. Their life together had been awkward enough before she put this idea into his head, and not talking about it wouldn’t make it go away.

  “Okay,” Riley said slowly, “I might be willing to try out what you suggested, on a few conditions.”

  She gestured for him to continue.

  “First, I’m keeping my name. Still Riley, and I’m not changing the spelling or going by any cute nicknames.”

  “That might make it harder to commit to thinking of yourself as a girl.”

  “I don’t care. It’s non-negotiable.”

  Morgana sighed. “Whatever. It’s an androgynous name anyway. But you’re using she/her pronouns, not they/them.”

  His stomach turned, but Riley didn’t see any way out of that.

  “Fine. Number two: I’m not dating or flirting with guys. If I’m doing this to get a girlfriend, I’m not doing any gay shit to ‘get into character’ or whatever.”

  “Sure, no ‘gay shit’ while you’re trying to hook up with a lesbian,” Morgana replied dryly.

  “Okay, third: she’s not very feminine, so I’m not going to be either.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Morgana asked, “Are you sure? It’s one thing to be a tomboy if you’re born a girl, but in your case, it might lead people to think you’re not serious. The effects of the treatment will take time to accumute; people will be harder to convince if you just look like a feminine boy.”

  Riley looked away as his resolve faltered a bit. “Whatever I do, I get to do it at my own pace.”

  It was a moment before Morgana replied, “Fair enough.”

  “Last thing: if it doesn’t work out, you have to let me change back, even if that means making a new potion to reverse the effects.”

  Morgana tensed up.

  “This is a big project,” she said. “I need you to be somewhat committed if I’m going to sacrifice my own supplies for this.”

  “Why are you offering this?” he asked. “All we’ve done so far is fight.”

  “Because we’re family,” she said a little too quickly. “We’re supposed to help each other if we can.”

  He snorted. “I’m not even transgender, so I’m not going to stick with it if doing so makes things worse for me.”

  “Well, I need to know that you’re really going to give it a fair shot. Promise me that you’ll go two months before you change your mind.”

  “…One month. That’s plenty of time to figure out if she’s interested, and I don’t want to lose the majority of my summer to a failed project, especially since I’m guessing it will take time to reverse the effects and bring me back to normal.”

  She looked annoyed but said, “I can live with that. After dinner, I’ll start putting something together. First batch should be done by the end of the week.”

  Riley nodded and turned his attention back to the dinner before him. He’d gotten all his concessions, but he felt no better for it. It was hard to shake the feeling he’d bet his soul on the outcome of this experiment.

  QuillRabbit