We sit down in the car, and Mom starts driving the familiar path to Holly’s. What I said to Paige wasn’t wrong… It wasn’t a lie… Holly was awful to me yesterday. It really feels like she never actually loved me for me.

  I rest my head on the seatbelt, ignoring everything around me. Was I just a pything for her? She made it clear that she thought I was a boy dressing like a girl… She can’t be transphobic, right? I mean, Aiden thought I was a boy dressing like a girl too… Shouldn’t he be smarter than that?

  The thoughts swirl in my mind as I fall deeper and deeper into myself. Maybe I can just make it clear to Holly that I’m a trans girl? Would that help? ‘I don’t want to hear it. Get out of my house, Danny.’ Holly’s words bounce around in my head like a morning star.

  I tried to tell her. She didn’t care. Didn’t give me the time to expin myself. Another thought strikes my brain. She genuinely believed that I was a boy, who was only dressing like a girl for her… Does she really think so little of me? Does she think I was so obsessed that I wouldn’t have stopped if I didn’t like it?

  It did start that way. I remind myself. I did start dressing like a girl to make her happy. I was also the most obvious egg ever. Like really, I should have known better. I sigh, and curl up as best I can. Regardless, she doesn’t trust me. She could’ve just asked me if I was happy. Instead she decided for me, and dumped me. I don’t want to be with someone who would do that to me.

  We pull up to Holly’s house, and I slide the ring off. “I can’t do this…” I say sadly. “Can you?”

  “Of course, Emmy.” My mom says, and exits the car.

  “Don’t be too mean.” I call after her. “Please…”

  She just waves at me, and knocks on Holly’s door. I watch out of the corner of my eye as the door opens, and May calls out back into the house. After a few moments, Holly approaches, hands my mom my shoes, takes the bundle of clothes, and just stands there for a moment.

  Holly never once looks over at me. She just hands something to my mom, and then shuts the door. My mom walks back up and returns to the driver's seat before tossing my shoes in the back.

  “She said she wants you to keep these.” My mom says, and pces the choker and ring in my hands.

  Despite the shouting in my mind, I immediately pull the ring onto my finger, and feel slightly better because of it. “Thank you…” I say softly.

  “You ready to head to the doctor?” She asks.

  “Yes.” I say, and wipe away a tear. “I’ve never been more ready.”

  The drive to the hospital goes by quickly, and we head to the general practitioners wing where my doctor’s office is. We walk inside fifteen minutes before the appointment, and straight up to reception.

  “Hi.” The man behind the desk says. “What can I do for you?”

  “My daughter has an appointment with Dr. Ellis at two.” My mom says.

  “Name and date of birth?” He asks.

  “Emmy Valera, October twenty-seventh, two thousand and one.” I say.

  The man clicks through his computer for a moment before smiling. “Sounds good. She’ll be with you shortly.”

  We take a seat, and I pull out my phone. I want to figure out the rest of the lyrics to that song from earlier. I type out what I have so far, and then think for a while, typing occasionally as I do. After about ten minutes, I have another verse and the bridge done.

  ‘Walking through the pces where we used to go. Every corner whispers the secret you don’t know. I can’t escape the memories, they’re etched into my soul, but I will keep on fighting, to regain control.’

  ‘In the darkness, I find my light. In the sorrow, I find my fight. No more fear, no more lies, I’ll spread my wings and fly!’ I copy and paste the chorus between verses and the bridge, and then try to write another verse.

  Before I can make any more progress, a voice calls out into the waiting room. “Emmy!” I stand up and walk towards the woman. “Hi, come on back.” I follow her towards a small nook in the side wall, and she gestures for me to sit on a chair. “Okay, we’re just going to take some measurements real quick, okay?”

  “Sounds good.” I say, and sit down,

  She wraps a blood pressure cuff around one arm, and presses a button on her machine before putting a pulse oximeter on the index finger of my other hand. I wince as the cuff tightens, and try to ground myself. I hate the feeling of getting my blood pressure checked.

  I grit my teeth until it’s done, and sigh in relief as she removes the cuff. “One fourteen over seventy-six.” She says. “Heart rate of ninety-two.”

  “Is that good?” I ask.

  “It’s well within acceptable range.” The woman says. “Take off your boots so we can get your height and weight please.

  I do as she instructs, and step up onto the scale. ‘114.2’ A bit higher than st time. Good. I step off, and press my back against the wall. The woman lowers a sliding part of the scale firmly against my head, and then inspects it.

  “Five foot eight inches.” She says. “You’re a bit underweight for girls your age, especially with your height.”

  “How much is a bit?” My mom asks, sounding worried.

  “Not much.” The woman soothes. “Around one-twenty-five would be average.”

  “Good.” I say, not wanting to talk about my weight any further.

  “Okay, put your shoes on, and follow me.” The woman says. I quickly pull my boots on and ce them up before following her to a small room with a stool, two chairs, and a bed. “Take a seat, and the doctor will be with you soon.”

  I sit on the chair closest to the wall, and let my mom take the one next to me. Once the nurse leaves I turn to my mom. “Are you okay if I stretch the truth a bit?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” My mom asks, concerned.

  “Well…” I say softly. “She probably won’t want to put me on meds if I tell her I only just came out… But I have been out as a girl online for over a year, even if I didn’t really know it. So I was going to tell her that I’ve been out for over a year, and leave it at that.”

  “I don’t know…” She says softly. “If she won’t put you on meds if you tell the truth, maybe that’s for the best.”

  “It’s not.” I say firmly. “I know who I am, and I really don’t want to wait any longer than I have to. My body is already changing into something I hate… I don’t want to let it get any worse.”

  “I understand…” My mom says. “Okay well, maybe not, but I can empathize. Go ahead and say when you started acting as a girl online.”

  “Thank you.” I respond.

  While we wait, I continue trying to come up with a third verse. Maybe it doesn’t need a third verse… I look at the chorus, and focus on the final line. Maybe just an outro. I start typing my thoughts into my phone. ‘Whoaaaaaaa! Yeah, yeah. Whoaaaaaaa! Oh, Oh. Whoaaaaaaa! Yeah, Yeah. I’ll find my way back. I’ll find my way back!’

  I turn off my phone, and put it back in my pocket, just in time for someone to knock on the door.

  “Come in.” My mom says.

  The door opens to reveal the short Ukrainian woman who has been my doctor for a few years now. She smiles at me as she walks in.

  “Hello, Emmy.” She says with a smile. “I was delighted to hear about your revetion. Congratutions on figuring it out.”

  “Thank you.” I say with a soft smile.

  She takes a seat and turns to me. “Alright, let's get down to business, shall we?” I nod. “So, I hear you want to get on HRT. What do you know about it?”

  “Well,” I say, and remember the lines I rehearsed. “I want to get on an anti-androgen to stop my male puberty before it gets bad, and I want to get on estradiol so I can go through the right puberty, and catch up with my peers.”

  “I see.” She says, and starts typing notes into her computer. “How long have you known you were a girl?”

  I take a breath. “A bit over a year, actually.” I say.

  “Tell me about it.” She says. “How did it happen?”

  “I started watching these videos of this guy who learned a girl's voice impression, and was using it as a prank on online video games.” I expin. “I was really interested in it, and wanted to do it too. So I learned the voice, and started pying games as a girl. I made friends, and turned my entire online persona into a girl.”

  “So you’ve been out online for a year?” She asks.

  “Sorta…” I say. “I didn’t actually tell anyone I was trans. I let them think I was a cis girl. They know now though, and are super supportive.”

  “I’m happy for you.” She says. “When did you come out to your parents?”

  “A few days ago.” I say. “I had been fully socially transitioned with my girlfriend for a few weeks, and I was just getting so depressed having to go back to being a boy when I went home, that I decided I was done with it. I knew what I wanted, and I told my parents so, and they support me.”

  “Tell me about being socially transitioned with your girlfriend.” She says.

  “Well…” I say. “It started with her asking to put makeup on me for fun. After seeing how much she liked it, I realized it was safe to tell her, so I did. She started letting me wear her clothes every day, and helped me learn makeup. She chose the name, Emmy, although if I’m being honest, I would have chosen that name myself anyways.” Not quite the truth but… I can’t tell her the truth.

  “That’s really sweet.” She says. “How long have you been together?”

  “We were together for like a month… She broke up with me yesterday…”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She says.

  “It’s fine.” I say. “I’ll get over it. Plus she gave me the courage to come out to my parents, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

  “Okay well, considering how long you’ve been out, and that you are fully socially transitioned already,” She thinks for a moment. “You look beautiful by the way. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “Thank you.” I reply with a smile.

  “HRT definitely will help you quite a bit, both in feeling more like yourself, and with making sure you continue to pass as you grow up.” She says, and types away on her computer further. “With that being said, I am going to write you a prescription for fifty milligrams of spironoctone to be taken in the morning…” She pauses for a moment. “Would you like pills or injections for your estradiol?”

  “Injections.” I say. “I’m already bad at remembering to take pills, and I’ve heard that injections work better.”

  “While there haven’t been any studies that prove that,” She says. “I have heard the same thing, and am willing to accept anecdotal evidence until a real study is done.”

  “Emmy…” My mom says softly. “Are you sure you want to do injections?”

  “I’m sure.” I say. “Needles have never bothered me anyways.”

  “Okay.” She says. “In that case, we can start you off on a five milligrams subcutaneous injection once a week.”

  “Is there a difference between subcutaneous and intramuscur?” I ask.

  “Besides pain,” She says with a smile. “Not really. Some people say it works better, but like injections versus pills, it's all anecdotal.”

  “I’d like intramuscur.” I say. “I can handle the pain. I want the best chance possible.”

  “Intramuscur it is.” She says, and continues typing in her notes. “Same pharmacy?”

  “Yes, please.” My mom says.

  “Sounds good.” She replies. “Before I send this in, I need to make sure you understand the effects. Firstly, spiro is a diuretic, so expect to be using the bathroom a lot, and make sure you drink lots of water.”

  “I will.” I promise.

  “Spiro on its own won’t do much. You will probably see a decrease in sex drive, and possibly a decrease in function. Estro does most of the changes. This is where you get all the big changes like fat redistribution which leads to breast, hip, and buttock growth. Your skin will start to soften, and you’ll almost certainly have some emotional changes. These are somewhat reversible if you stop the medication early on, but the longer you stay on it, the more permanent they become.”

  “Yeah…” I say softly. “That’s kinda the entire point.”

  “Yes it is.” She says with a smile. “I just have to say that for legal reasons. The only other thing is that you may see some deterioration of your sex organ. Not to be crass, but it’s a use it or lose it situation, understand?”

  “I get it.” I say quickly, trying to pass over that awkward conversation. “When can I pick up my meds?”

  “It might be ready tonight, if not then tomorrow.”

  “I genuinely cannot wait.” I say with a smile.

  “Before you leave,” She says. “I need you to stop by the b and get some blood drawn so we have a baseline to compare with.”

  “Okay.” I say happily.

  “Well, unless there is anything else,” She says as she stands up. “You’re good to go. Just get scheduled for another appointment in three months so we can do more bloodwork and go over your bs.”

  “We will.” My mom says.

  We head out of the room and up to the counter. “Hi,” The man says. “Need to schedule a follow up?”

  “Yes.” My mom says. “We already have one in two months, can we get that rescheduled for three months from now?”

  “Sure.” He says with a smile. “How's thursday October twentieth?”

  “Perfect.” My mom says. “What time?”

  “We have most of the morning open, nothing after one-thirty.” He says. “When works for you?”

  “Latest you can.” She says. “I don’t want to pull Emmy out of school too early.”

  “One-thirty it is.” He says. “See you then.”

  We walk out and start walking towards the b room. “How are you feeling?” My mom asks.

  “Great.” I say honestly. “I really hope my prescriptions are ready tonight, I want to start as soon as possible.”

  “I’m happy for you.” She says. “I won’t lie, I’m a little nervous, but you seem really happy about this, which is good.”

  “I am happy.” I promise. “This is what I want.”

  “Then I will support you in every way I can.” She says.

  We walk into the b room, and up to the counter. The woman behind it turns to face us. “How can I help you?”

  “My daughter needs bloodwork done.” My mom says.

  “Name?” She asks.

  “Emmy Valera.” My mom responds.

  “Got the orders right here.” She says. “Come on back.” She leads us to a small room where an elderly woman is waiting. “Hi, Dorothy, this is Emmy, she needs a few vials drawn.”

  “Of course.” She says, and gestures for me to sit in a very padded chair. “Let me just see what the orders are.” She looks at them for a moment, before gring at my mom, and then the receptionist. “No, I’m not doing this.”

  “Excuse me?” My mom asks coldly.

  “I will not be a part of this.” The old woman says. “Your son is way too young to be doing this.”

  “Don’t you dare talk about my daughter that way!” My mom shouts, and gets close to the woman's face.

  I grab my mom’s arm, and pull her back towards me, just in time for the receptionist to step between them. “Dorothy, you are already on notice for this. You know what refusing does.”

  “Fine.” She says. “Give me your arm, boy.”

  “N-no.” I respond. “I d-don’t feel c-c-comfortable having her d-do it anymore. She m-might t-t-try to h-hurt me.”

  My mom pulls me into a hug, and holds on tight. “Yeah, I won’t let this disgusting woman touch my daughter.”

  The receptionist sighs. “Come on, I’ll get Vasquez to do it.” We follow her out, and she turns to us. “I’m so sorry about that.” She says. “I should have known not to take it to her.”

  “I cannot believe she could be so disrespectful!” My mom shouts. “I want to talk to whoever is in charge!”

  “I’ll get him for you.” She says. “Let’s get Emmy’s blood drawn first. Vasquez is nice. It won’t be a problem.”

  I nod, and stay pressed against my mom. We walk into a room where a tall, well muscled hispanic man is sitting. “Everything alright out there?”

  The receptionist shakes her head. “Just Dorothy being herself…”

  The man immediately turns to me. “I’m so sorry for her.” Then looks back at the receptionist. “She better be fired for this.”

  “She probably will be…” She says. “Let’s not talk about this now.”

  “You’re right.” He turns back to me. “What’s your name, mija?”

  “E-Emmy…” I say softly.

  “Well, Emmy,” He says. “My name is Jose. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Nice t-to meet you t-t-to…” I stammer.

  “Come, take a seat.” He says, and gestures to an identical chair to the previous room. I do as he asks, and put my arm on the rest that he lowers. He takes my hand, and squeezes. “Are you okay with needles?”

  “I’m fine.” I say, and give him a soft smile.

  “Okay then, let’s get started.”

  He starts by tying an estic band around my bicep, and then inserts a needle into the crook of my arm. I sit still, despite the small pinch, and look at the vial as it slowly fills with blood. I study the tattoos on his arm as his sleeve rides up his bicep.

  “You like them?” He asks, while he swaps out the vials.

  “Yeah…” I say softly. “What are they?”

  He starts filling another vial, and smiles at me. “They’re from my time in the army.”

  I study them closely, tracing the lines of the pne and falling soldiers with my eyes. “What did you do?”

  “I was a medic.” He says. “I was also a cool guy.” He chuckles. “Airborne Ranger.” He expins.

  “That’s really cool.” I say, my voice coming out a bit brighter.

  He pulls the final vial off, pulls the tube out and quickly covers the site with a cotton ball and tape. Once he’s done, he pulls up his sleeve to reveal clouds and a couple symbols I don’t recognize drawn on them.

  “This one is my ranger tab, and this was my unit patch.” He says.

  I smile at them. “You must be really proud.”

  “It’s how I got my citizenship.” He expins. “I already had my green card, but the full citizenship process was taking a while. They told me it could be sped up if I enlisted, so I did. Ended up really enjoying myself, and served for twelve years.”

  “That’s really cool.” I say mely, unsure of how to respond.

  “It is.” He says, and lifts the arm rest up. “Well, you’re all done, mija. Your results should be posted to your chart within a few days, maybe a week.”

  “Thank you.” I say, and stand up.

  “You’re welcome.” He says with a kind smile. “Have a great day, Emmy.”

  “You too.” I say, and turn towards my mom to see that she’s not here.

  Slight panic fills my head, and I look back to Jose. Where could she have gone?