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  Month 3: September

  Eli

  I sat in a cramped room with gray metal walls and a gray tile floor, surrounded by the denizens of my trade school cohort as we were all handed back our first tests. Our teacher, Mr. Alvarez, a short, portly man in his sixties, bereft of hair and with a noticeable limp to his gait, stubbornly dragged himself around the room as he passed out tests one at a time. The night was almost over, and he wanted us to have some good news to send us off for the evening.

  Or bad news, in my case.

  49%. It was written in big, red ink at the top of my test, gring up at me like the Eye of Sauron. I slumped into my uncomfortable pstic desk-chair as my cssmates began filing out of the room to get on with their lives. I would have done the same, but that would imply I had a life to get on with.

  “That bad, huh?” came a voice next to me.

  I looked over to find the source: a bck girl around my age, her natural hair cropped short and managerial, face devoid of makeup, cd in a pin purple t-shirt and skinny jeans and hiking boots. A single eyebrow was raised, and she held up her own test score: 51%.

  I held up mine with a sigh.

  She whistled. “Damn. I suddenly feel a lot better about myself. Thanks for that, guy.”

  “A lot better feels like a bit much,” I said wryly. “Wouldn’t ‘two percent better’ be more appropriate?”

  “Yeah, probs,” she shrugged. “I’m Kelsey, by the way.”

  “Eli,” I said, extending a hand for a shake. She returned it, her grip tight and her hands calloused. “Don’t we have another css together?”

  “Yeah, I think we’re in Wiring 101 together on Tuesdays,” she said, cracking her neck. “I’m doing WAY better in that css than I am here.”

  “Heh. I’m not.”

  “Ooof,” Kelsey said. She stood up and took her bag, a simple beige tote, off the ground and slung it over her shoulder. “You, uh, sure this is a good fit for you?”

  “No,” I admitted, standing up myself and stretching my arms out. “But it’s what my parents would pay for.”

  “Ahhh, say no more, I understand completely,” she said. “What other csses are you taking?”

  “Zoning and protocols on Monday nights,” I said. “Two year program. Basic certification is the end goal.”

  “And past that?”

  “Union job,” I shrugged. “It’s what my dad wants.”

  “Guessing that was his thing, too?” she said as we started making our way out of the cssroom and into the barren hallways of our trade school. Everyone had already started filing out for the night.

  “Hit the nail on the head,” I said. “You stalking me or something?”

  “Cannot say I am, no,” Kelsey ughed. “I mean, you’re in all the same csses as I am- how do I know you’re not stalking me?”

  “Well we must both be incredibly bad stalkers, if we’re having this conversation right now,” I said.

  “Heh. Fair enough,” she said.

  “What about you? What’s your pn in all this?”

  “Oh, about the same as yours.”

  “Your dad wants this for you too, then?”

  “No, my dad wanted me to marry some idiot from my high school and crank out grandkids for him,” Kelsey ughed. “Telling him I’m a lesbian five hundred times finally got him to acquiesce, though.”

  “Fair enough,” I echoed. We cleared out of the building and stood in the cool September night, waiting in the parking lot while it thrummed with cars like blood cells in a clogged artery. Light pollution blotted out the stars as we stood together at the precipice of the parking lot. “You waiting on a ride?”

  “Yeah, a friend is supposed to pick me up.

  “Oh, hey, same,” I said. “Do you work with yours at a comic shop too?”

  “No, we work at a sex toy shop, actually,” she said.

  I ughed nervously.

  “That wasn’t a joke, we really work together at a sex shop,” Kelsey said with a ft tone and a smug grin.

  “Oh! Uh… Good for you?” I said.

  “Thanks. What comic shop you work at, then? I’m looking for a new regur since the one near my apartment closed down st month.”

  “Kendrick’s, in Culver City.”

  “Oh, dope!” she said. “I’ll check it out this weekend.”

  “Thanks, much appreciated. I’ll, uh, patronize your pce of business in the unlikely event I ever get a date,” I said.

  “I mean with that attitude you’re definitely not getting one,” she ughed.

  I breathed out my nose.

  “Okay that was a joke, I’m sorry if that-”

  “It’s fine, seriously,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Don’t worry about it. I walked into that one, anyway.”

  A pink VW bug with the hood pulled down rolled up in front of us, and behind the wheel sat an absolutely GORGEOUS girl. She was around my age, tall and blonde and muscur, with perfect makeup and piercing blue eyes and a pink crop-top that hugged her ample breasts and showed off her six-pack abs. Her long, flowing ptinum hair was worn in a braid that coiled around her shoulder and provided a clear view of her sharp cheekbones. I tried to keep my jaw from dropping at the sight of her.

  Then I looked over and noticed Kelsey completely and utterly failing to do so herself.

  “Hey, bestie! How was school?” the blonde said, completely with a Valley Girl accent straight out of an 80s movie. That had to be an affectation- I’d been to the Valley, I’d met girls from the Valley, they didn’t actually sound like that.

  Regardless, it worked for me, and it definitely worked for Kelsey given how red she was blushing and how she was staring at the ground while tracing a line back and forth with her foot. “Oh, you know, it was, uh, uh, ummm…”

  Oh, Lord. “Educational.”

  “Yes! Definitely educational!” Kelsey said. With her eyes closed and her head aimed up at the sky.

  Not ughing took more willpower than I knew that I had. I’d heard the term ‘Useless Lesbian’ a few times, mostly on the internet. I didn’t know that it had a basis in reality.

  Evidently, however…

  “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your cute friend?” the blonde said, leaning forward and batting her eyeshes at me. Or possibly at Kelsey. Or at both of us. Or just everyone in general.

  “Right!” Kelsey gasped. “Bethany, this is Eli. Eli, this is my friend who I was telling you about.”

  “The one who you work at the sex shop with?” I said.

  She groaned. Bethany, however, burst out ughing. “Oh-em-gee she led with that! That’s totally just like Kel-Kel.”

  “Kel-kel?” I said, looking at Kelsey and smirking.

  “Yes, Kel-kel,” Kelsey said, looking ready to cry. Still, she wouldn’t stop blushing, which told me everything all at once. “Eli here works at a comic shop when he’s not in css with me.”

  “Ooohh, do you guys have any magical girl manga?!” Bethany said, bouncing up and down in her seat.

  “Uh, yeah, we do,” I said.

  “Ohhh PERF!” Bethany excimed.

  “Anything specific you’re looking for? I can have it pre-ordered for you.”

  “Hmmm lemme text it to you!” Bethany said, bouncing up and down in her seat, her… Assets jiggling as she did so. “Kelsey, bestie, what’s this cutie’s phone number?”

  “I, uh, don’t have it,” Kelsey said.

  “Oh-em-gee you don’t have this tall drink of water’s number???” Bethany said, putting her car in park and climbing out. She rifled through her purse– which was pink– and retrieved her smart phone– which was also pink– and shoved it towards me. “Gimme gimme!”

  I smiled. It was impossible not to, even as Kelsey shot me a withering look. I decided the right thing to do was to help out a cssmate. “Tell you what- Imma give you the number for the shop so you can put in a pre-order. That sound good?”

  “Okay!” she chirped as I put in the number.

  Kelsey looked at me and mouthed ‘thank you.’ I gave her a thumbs-up as she and Bethany climbed into the pink car. “We’ll swing by the shop on Saturday, probably. That sound good?” Kelsey asked.

  “Should be just fine,” I said.

  With that, they drove away.

  I waited for another few minutes until Samantha pulled up in her silver hatchback. I opened the door and hopped inside, and was immediately awestruck by her scent. She was wearing some kind of perfume, a rich and fruity aroma, like strawberries and cherry blossoms. It threatened to pull me closer to the crook of her neck, where it met her shoulder. Made me want to take a bite, leave a mark behind, and then kiss it better.

  “Hey,” she said, her dark red lips standing in stark contrast to her bck hair and clothes and pale skin. Streetmps shone down and the light sparkled on her irises. God, she was just so damn beautiful. Always was, but getting more so each and every day. “How was school?”

  “Terrible,” I said with a bitter ugh. “But I think I made a friend.”

  “That’s always a good thing,” she said, pulling into reverse and backing us out of the parking lot. She switched into drive and headed down the road. “You still wanna get dinner at my pce?”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  We drove down the 405, making our way towards Samantha’s house. Paul was closing up the shop tonight, and Samantha had promised to have dinner ready by the time he got back. He’d seemed… Not super crazy about Samantha cooking, probably because she pnned on making what he referred to as ‘rabbit food.’ And while I got where he was coming from… It was hard for me not to notice how bad Paul’s health was.

  It was also hard for me not to notice how much happier Samantha was since she’d started her health kick. There were other reasons- transition reasons, especially being two months on her hormone treatment now- but still, it definitely helped.

  Unfortunately, a surprise awaited us in front of the Kendrick house.

  “Oh, FUCK,” Samantha said as she registered the sight of the tall, leather-jacket cd blonde man on her doorstep.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Wes.”

  “OH.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll call 9-1-1,” I said, digging my phone out of my jeans’ front pocket.

  “Don’t,” Samantha said.

  “Why not?”

  “When has calling the cops ever helped someone like me?”

  “... Is that a rhetorical question?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fair enough. So how do we handle this?”

  “You let me handle it,” Samantha said, giving me a stern look. “Hang back. Please. Just let me talk to him. If it gets bad, come for me. But for now-”

  “Wait here,” I said. “Gotcha.”

  She offered me a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

  She got out of the car. I stayed put. I wasn’t crazy about that, but… It was what she needed.

  I watched the scene py out from my uncomfortable distance. She walked up to her ex-boyfriend, and he leaned forward.

  I couldn’t hear what they said, but it started off calm. He had a steely, self-assured look on his face, his posture rexed and his hands in his jacket pockets. Samantha, meanwhile, seemed nervous- hands folded over her chest, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast.

  Then Wes looked over to the car, and he saw me.

  And he shifted. His eyes bulged, his hands came free of the pockets bunched up into fists, his brow furrowed. He looked at Samantha, then back to me, then back to her. I finally made out part of what was being said:

  “Is that who I fucking think it is?!” Wes screamed.

  Samantha shook her head, but it wasn’t enough to sway him: he marched right over to me.

  I unbuckled and got out of the car, my pulse shooting up and the hot fire of my temper fring alongside it. Wes was upon me as soon as I was out the door, screaming, “The fuck do you think you are?!”

  There was only one answer. And fortunately for me, it was the truth: “Someone who cares about her. Which is more than can be said for you.”

  His face twisted with pure, unadulterated rage.

  Samantha caught up, hands held ft and aloft, and said, “Hey now, let’s not do anything crazy-”

  Wes threw the first punch.

  I ducked, and his hand collided with the car window and shattered it.

  Wes retracted his hand and screamed, clutching the bloody disaster area of his right hand in his left. Behind him, Samantha was running over, panic and shame painting her beautiful face.

  I looked at Wes, and a hurricane of rage and purpose collided with me. I screamed as I went low and tackled him, smming him into the ground and raising my fist.

  He locked eyes with me, and I saw a picture of pure, unadulterated hatred, tainted further by the verdant stain of envy. I wound back my fist.

  A soft, dainty pair of hands wrapped around my wrist before I could bring the proverbial hammer down on the worthless shit-stain pinned below me. “Please. Don’t.”

  “But he-”

  “You were right,” she said. Pleaded. Begged. “We should have called the cops. Please, don’t escate this any further.”

  “What’s the matter, kid?” Wes sneered. “Too chickenshit to protect what you stole from me?”

  “He didn’t steal me, you ass!” Samantha said. “You just lost me, and it was your own damn fault! Eli, please. I need this to stop.”

  I breathed a slow, steady breath through my nose and held it for as long as I could. I wanted to wreck this man. I wanted to make him hurt. He’d hurt– he’s spent YEARS hurting– the best person I knew. The coolest girl I’d ever met. The girl I’d…

  The girl I’d fallen for.

  “Huh,” I said.

  “What?” Wes and Samantha both said.

  I looked up at Samantha and saw the fear and apprehension dripping off of her. She didn’t want this. The girl I’d fallen for didn’t want me to be this person. She’d already been with one aggressive, macho douchebag. If I was serious about how I felt about her, then I’d do my damndest not to be that guy.

  I stood up and walked away, held up my hands and then put my arms around Samantha. Her mascara was running down her face, and her breathing was haggard. This, all of this, terrified her. And that was the st thing I wanted.

  “Hey,” I said, doing my best to sound reassuring, “It’s alright. I won’t do it. Not if you don’t want me to.”

  “How precious,” Wes said, hobbling back onto his feet.

  “Wes, just get out of here,” Samantha hissed.

  “Fine,” he grumbled.

  “Also, you’re paying for that window,” I said.

  “What?!” he said.

  “You broke it, you bought it,” I said pinly.

  He stared at me, at her, at us, for a brief eternity. “Fine. I’ll mail her a check.”

  And with that, he stalked off into the night.

  “Thank you,” Samantha said.

  “Of course,” I whispered into her ear, rubbing her back. “I’d do anything for you.”

  Samantha

  He’d do anything for me? That was a bold cim. But it was impossible to deny how much I loved hearing him say that. A gentle reassurance that he cared more about me than some macho pissing match with a guy he barely knew (I know that doesn’t sound like much, but have you met young men before? That’s not most of them). That I…that I MATTERED to him, in a way I didn’t to most people.

  The rest of the night was quiet. We’d put on some dumb sitcom and let it py out in the brightened living room, helping ourselves to a finger of whiskey apiece while we waited for Uncle Paul to get home.

  And Eli held me. Didn’t let me go the whole time. His lithe, slender body held me aloft, his toned arms holding me steady.

  He’d do anything for me.

  Those words, that idea, that creed, echoed inside my mind the next few days, still sounding as I opened up the shop on Saturday morning. Eli was already there, waiting for me with two coffees in hand.

  He’d memorized my order. I’d never told him as such what it was, but we’d been to get coffee together enough times that he just knew from memory that I always got a medium iced Americano with a spsh of skim milk.

  “Hey,” he smiled, handing me my drink.

  “Hi,” I smiled back, taking a sip. The warm buzz of that first sip-of-coffee-feeling surged through me, a jolt of wakefulness to salvage intelligent thought from my groggy mind. I looked at him, with his neatly-parted auburn hair and jeans and red, white, and blue Justice Society shirt. He was such a dork, always earnest and kind. I wasn’t used to people like him. I was used to Wes, to my parents, to the cynical assholes Uncle Paul always found himself dating and the obnoxious hipsters who stumbled around this city. With Eli, what you saw was what you got. And what I saw was…

  What I saw was…

  “Just a really great guy.”

  “Hm?” Eli said as he unlocked the shop and held the door open, beckoning me inside.

  Oh God. I said that out loud. So much for intelligent thought.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just, uh, still waking up.”

  “Heh. Fair enough,” he said, still holding open the door for me. “Ladies first.”

  The warm feeling again, gentle and reassuring and soothing, like lying on a soft bed of grass on a cool summer evening, looking at the stars and seeing the whole universe open up for you, consumed me again.

  And I giggled.

  I don’t know that I’d ever giggled before. It just kinda slipped out.

  Eli, for his part, tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes and smiled at me. “You got a cute ugh.”

  I gulped. I spent what felt like eons wracking my brain for anything resembling one of those so-called Intelligent Thoughts, but instead I found myself rushing inside without saying anything, arms hanging limp behind me like I was a damn anime character.

  Why must I be so cringe, always?

  We opened up the shop, and every so often, I noticed Eli giving me another look, another smile, another ugh, another helpful gesture.

  A few customers trickled in and out. I let Eli handle the actual interactions while I stayed behind the counter ringing people up. All in all, the morning portion of the day passed slowly and steadily.

  And then, it happened: an explosion of personality and beauty burst through the door in a hot pink bodycon dress and matching sky-high heels. Toned and lean everywhere except her bust- her massive, huge, holy fuck those things have their own zip code bust- with ptinum hair cascading in spectacur waves down her back and eyes bluer than the ocean on a clear day. She carried a white designer handbag under her arm, and the second she stepped inside, her big ol’ anime eyes- seriously, how much mascara did that take- locked onto Eli.

  “Heyyyyy Eli!” she cooed, sashaying over to my best friend with obvious affection and familiarity radiating from her every cell.

  A gaping crater of dread exploded inside my soul like they were fracking for oil in there as Eli waved hello and walked over to greet her. “Hey, Bethany. Gd you could make it.”

  What.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Bethany said. “You got the package for me?”

  What?!

  The bell rang once more as the door tore open. A tall, muscur bck girl with short hair and hoop earrings, cd in red tank top and jean shorts, came in with a look of panic on her face. “Bethany, wait up!”

  “Ooops! Sorry, bestie!” Bethany said, walking back over to her friend and grabbing her by the hand and pulling her forward in a steady, speedy march. How did she move that fast in those heels? What the fuck kinda witchcraft was going on with this girl?!

  “Lemme introduce y’all to my favorite person,” Eli said.

  “Who’s that?” I said.

  “You, ya goober,” Eli chuckled.

  “Oh,” I said. WHAT?!

  “Bethany, Kelsey, this is my boss and my best friend, Samantha,” Eli said.

  “Best friend, eh?” I said, the piercing dread dulled somewhat by his kind words.

  “Absolutely, you are,” Eli said, leaning against the gss front desk. “Samantha, these are the people I was telling you about: Kelsey, from my trade school, and her good friend Bethany, who ordered those magical girl books.”

  “Oh!” I excimed. Oh, thank God, I thought. “Let me go get those for you!”

  “Eli, can you show me around the shop while she gets me those books?” Bethany said, batting her eyeshes at him.

  I suppressed a raptor-like screech of territorial rage. Barely. In fact, maybe not successfully. I wasn’t sure. Already committed to the path I was on, I went into the back and looked for our section of specialty orders amidst the crowded forest of metal shelves and dust-bunnies. I parsed through the recent orders shelf until I found what I was looking for:

  A literal long box, the length of a guitar case and the width of an espresso machine, filled with volumes of Fairy Queen Sugar Sugar. It was a very cute and sparkly magical girl manga with a lead character who transformed into a pixie with a sugar cane stalk for a weapon and fought enemies the Seelie and Unseelie fae courts. I’d never read it, but the back cover of the first volume illuminated me real quick. Of course that’s what the girl up front was into. She was all pink and girly and skinny and perfect and was clearly making eyes at Eli and he’d probably start drooling over her the second she left because of course he would, why wouldn’t he, she was like a temple to cis girl femininity squeezed into a dress that left staggeringly little to the imagination.

  My eyes peeled wide. What the hell was I doing? I shouldn’t be getting jealous. I had no right to be jealous. And besides, Eli was just a friend. A friend and a coworker and a… A confidant. He was there for me, had been for the past few months, and he picked me up when I was down. But we weren’t…

  We couldn’t…

  He wouldn’t…

  Would he?

  No. No, he was going somewhere in life. He was gonna get a real job and meet a real girl like the one up front and have a real family and live a real life, and I… I was going nowhere. And everything about me was bullshit. Eli was genuine. I was just…a facsimile.

  That was just how it was.

  I shook my head vigorously. There was no point in taking out my frustrations on some girl I’d just met. That was all kinds of not-okay. Especially since if she had her way, I’d be seeing a lot of her going forward.

  Best to face the music now. And do so with some dignity.

  I lifted with my knees and was greeted by a jiggle from my chest. I nearly dropped the box then and there and clutched my chest. That was… I was… I HAD…

  Boobs. I was getting boobs. They’d shifted under my shirt, rubbing against the edges of my bra and going up and down with the flow of gravity.

  All the pain and negativity and…and self-loathing washed away for a second, scrubbed clean and pure and blissful with the bright balm of gender euphoria. I was a girl. A woman. And my body was finally starting to catch up with me. I nearly cried, but I didn’t want to deal with my mascara running down my face like a bck river on my freakishly pale skin.

  I took a deep breath and let myself giggle for a few minutes, then I collected myself. I still had a customer, and she was waiting on her order. And in spite of everything else wrong with me, all the ways in which I was deficient, I was a professional. And I had a business to bear in mind.

  Besides, Uncle Paul had been thrilled by the sheer bulk of this order. If I pyed this right, we could wind up with a new best customer. So, with my unduting baby breasts blocked from view by the long box, I carried my patron’s order to the front.

  Bethany, for her part, was pirouetting around the store looking at everything we had, while her friend Kelsey struggled to keep up with her bestie’s hyperactive scampering.

  Eli was just standing behind the desk, resting his chin on his hands while bending over and smiling that adorable smile of his.

  Stop it, brain, I thought. What you’re feeling isn’t real. Nothing about you is real, and neither are your feelings. You’re just glomming onto the first guy in your age bracket who’s ever treated you with basic human decency. There’s nothing really there. And besides, you’re coworkers. Don’t make it weird.

  I set the box on the front desk. “Got your order, Miss!” I said, pstering on my most convincing smile, hoping my voice came out as something other than ft and grumpy.

  “OMG yay!!!” Bethany said, galloping over with proverbial stars lighting up her eyes. Seriously, how the hell did she move like that in heels?! It wasn’t natural, or fair!

  Brg. Stupid deep-seated feelings of inadequacy in my femininity.

  “So, this is the whole series, right?” she said, digging her nose into the box and rifling through the contents.

  “Should be. We ordered the complete box set straight from the American localizer,” I said.

  “Good, that’s very important. I already have the whole series in Japanese, so I need the official English release for my next video.”

  “Your next video?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m a Youtuber.”

  “Wait, seriously?” I said.

  “Yeah, I review manga, and some of my most popur videos are comparing and contrasting official english releases with unofficial fan transtions that go up on the internet. Then I’ll go through the original Japanese version and do my own transtion of select chapters for compare and contrast purposes.”

  “You… You speak Japanese?”

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” she nodded, bright smile brightened even further by her pearly whites and perfect lipstick. “I did my freshman year abroad in Tokyo as part of an immersion program. I lived with a host family and everything. And I’m majoring in the nguage itself at UCLA! I’m hoping to get a job as a transtor afterwards, though I’m honestly making decent money already through my endorsements.”

  “Endorsements!”

  “Of course! You think I could afford this dress without ‘em?” she said, gesturing down at her, admittedly, gorgeous pink dress draped over her fwless figure. Fuck, that was a good point. And it…it…as much as it pained me to admit, it was cute. She was cute. She was AWESOME. She was doing so much and she was so much cooler than me and prettier than me. Fuck. Fuck, I couldn’t even be mad, I was just impressed. “Actually, I was wondering something? Do you think I could record my next video here?”

  “Uh… I mean, I’d have to talk to my uncle about it-”

  “Could you? Could you please? Pretty pretty please?” she said, bouncing up and down, SOMEHOW, in those FREAKING STILTS.

  “Uhhh… Sure?” I said. “Yeah, I can. If nothing else, it’ll be some good free publicity. How many subscribers do you have?”

  “47000!” Bethany excimed.

  “What.”

  “It’s true, she does,” Kelsey said, awkwardly scratching at the back of her head.

  “Amazing! That’s so cool!” Eli said. “Hopefully Paul says yes- if so, I’m looking forward to seeing more of you!”

  “Mmmm. Me too, guy. Me too,” she said, side-eyeing Eli with naked lust painting her perfect face.

  Don’t make it weird, your feelings aren’t real, I thought. Don’t make it weird, your feelings aren’t real. Don’t make it weird, your feelings aren’t real.Don’t make it weird, your feelings aren’t real. Don’t make it-