… Freak
No, no, no, this can't happen. Not to me. Not today. FUCK.
Eight weeks ago
There he is. The way he stands is so beautiful. The bitter westerly wind blowing across the platform makes his cheeks flush. His hair flutters about, all golden and perfect. Fuck, did he just look at me? Oh, God. What am I wearing? A quick look at my reflection in the window behind me and I breathe. I'm dressed for school, not my best 'look at me, I'm hot' clothes but not my worst either. I knew I should have changed into my black jeans and red shirt. Red's a power colour right? Gives off great vibes. Brings all the boys to my yard. Hahaha, I'm such a freak. Only I would sing to myself while worrying about a boy who may or may not have looked at me.
Thank God, the train is here. I pull my cap down and adjust my long, black fringe so it's covering half my face. I get on, pick a seat and find my music. Blocking out the chatter and wrinkling my nose at the smell of too many boys wearing way too much Lynx.
The train is packed. I find a double seat, sit on the one closest to the window and dump my bag on the other. Maybe the dickheads will take the hint and not sit next to me. Head down, headphones on, eyes closed and play pressed: hello twenty minutes of musical madness. This I can do, twenty minutes of peace.
My new school's two stops further away than my old one. But that's okay, I needed the change. My friend, Frankie, from my favourite chat room agreed that it was a good idea. The problem was, living in Australia put me fourteen hours ahead of him. I wasn't able to chat as much as I wanted because I'm at school when he's at home, and I'm asleep when he's awake. Just another Down Under dilemma.
Finally, after lots of screaming matches, slamming doors and me not eating, my dad relented and let me move schools. I should really thank Matt, my older brother, for making it happen. But I won't because he can be an asshole when he wants to. I mean, one minute he's cool and laid back, and the next he's all worried about me.
I just want to be left alone to be me. I've got to work this out on my own. But no, Matt has to go all big brother, 'None of the guys giving you a hard time, are they?' and 'You need me to pick you up from school and give those guys a smack?' Even when he says, 'Looking good today', I know he's thinking - Not looking too skinny. I just want to shout at him. I know he means well. He's protecting me from others and myself. I make one bad decision - okay, like a year of bad decisions - and this is what I get. But he needs to understand that I have to do this my way.
What the hell? Who moved my bag? A side-eye look and holy shit. It's him! I wipe my hands on my jeans, drop a little lower in the seat, pull down my button up checked shirt and re-tie my shoes. I got this.
'Hey,' he says smiling.
I glance over at him and mumble, 'Huh?' Oh, shit. Could I be more stupid? When did a simple 'hey' become so freakin' hard to utter? Keeping my eyes firmly down and studying the dirty linoleum floor, I sigh and try again. 'No worries'.
'I just wanted to say hi. I've seen you around at school. You're new and I'm the welcome party. Late, I know, but welcome all the same.' He bumps my shoulder and my whole body notices. My heart pounds and I start to sweat. A quick check of the other kids. No one's paying attention. That'd be right, everyone is only thinking about themselves. But years of worrying about others and what they think of me has made me hypersensitive. I clench my fists so hard I can feel my nails digging in. I sit on my hands hoping he doesn't notice I'm a freak.
'I'm Josh.' His voice is just the right balance of low, rumbling and friendly. I can't help but smile. When I look up, he's staring at me with the deepest, brown eyes I've ever seen. He's waiting for me to tell him my name. I know it, but I can barely breathe and I know my face is red from embarrassment and excitement.
'Jess,' I mumble, and he leans in to hear me. Fuck, he smells like he looks - perfect. I tug at my sleeves to check they're all the way down and my arms aren't showing.
Vulture Street Station Next stop, Vulture Street Station, the bored voice of the automated driver intones, I jump up and swipe my bag from the floor before the train has fully stopped. The train's sudden deceleration causes me to stumble, and Josh steadies me with a hand to my back. I flinch as if he's fire. He can't touch me there. What if he feels it? What if he can tell? I right myself and hurry for the door. The whoosh of the opening door is the greatest thing I've ever heard as I flee from the train and bolt up the platform.
I spend the whole day with my head down as I scurry between classes. If I don't look for him, I won't be tempted to hide in the bathroom all day. Lunch is spent at the back of the library, lounging on the big floor pillows and facing the wall. I make myself a fort. Three big floor pillows in the far corner, feet on the wall and a pillow behind me shielding me from the stares of others. The library staff know me and usually leave me alone, as long as I keep my feet off the walls. But today I need to feel the solid walls against my feet, the floor against my back and the safety of the pillows surrounding me. Luckily they leave me alone. Maybe I'm giving off the freak vibe and everyone is staying away.
I linger after school. My heavy footsteps attest to my inner turmoil: Equal parts euphoria that Josh spoke to me, and fear that he knows I'm a freak. I make sure not to catch my usual train and end up on the one full of workers. I just can't handle the school train today. It's amazing the difference an hour makes. One train is full of loud, obnoxious teenagers bragging about their exploits on the weekend. Their drunken antics and sexual conquests - all bullshit if you ask me. And the next train is quiet as everyone is caught in the lure of their mobile phones, their faces pinched like their brains are stuck on a particularly hard algebra problem. I probably look like that every fucking day.
Four weeks ago
I check myself in the mirror. It's been the best investment in my transformation, as I can check myself from all angles and get the whole picture. I can see how I sit and walk, be sure my sleeves are down and my shirt is hanging just so. Shirts need to be tight but not too tight. And checks or patterns are the best, they're forgiving and hide a multitude of problems. Black or dark jeans, tight on my legs and bum but not on my package. That's a laugh! Like anyone is checking me out but just in case, I always make sure the shirt is just long enough in the front to cover anything. Autumn has begun; it's still hot in March but I have to wear the sleeves, to cover my arms. Of course my extra layer just adds to the constant reminder that I'm a freak who's sweating buckets, in a place billed as 'Beautiful One Day, Perfect the Next', at a time I feel anything but beautiful and so far from perfect it's laughable. People stare but I don't care. I will suffer the heat and wear clothes that cover up my arms and legs. My Doc Marten boots, found at Lifeline for ten bucks, and a snapback finish off my outfit. I'm hoping for indie rock look and not scary goth, but I'll take anything over freak.
Josh is waiting for me at the station. He's nothing if not persistent. He's waited every morning for me and never fails to give me a 'hey' and a smile. He still makes my heart pound; I have to wipe my hands on my jeans and then sit on them. But he chats like he doesn't notice me freaking out. He tells me he's in Year 11 and busy studying and then jokes that I should enjoy Year 10 because next year will suck big time. Pre-season training has started for footy, so he's only on the morning train. That train ride is the highlight of my day.
He chats and asks me questions. I mumble a response and look up at him from under my fringe. He has lots of questions, sometimes I answer in a quiet voice or just nod. I'm not confident in my voice yet. I'm practicing, and I think it's getting better. I just don't want him to know I'm a freak just yet. I like that he talks to me and makes me feel normal. Maybe he's my friend. I would love to think he's my boyfriend, but that's one step too far. I should be happy to have a friend who's a boy. And not a boy who's threatening to bash me or yell obscenities at the freak.
Josh asks about my family and I tell him it's just Dad and Matt and me. He says it must be hard with all that testosterone in the house - boys being the disgusting pigs that they are. I laugh, if he only knew - there's not quite enough testosterone for me. Our house could do with one more boy. Specifically, Josh. He could come over and make it an even four. Dad and Matt would be cool. They know. They're not completely comfortable with who I am and I'm sure they ask the therapist thousands of questions, but they never make me feel bad - anymore.
'What're you doing Saturday arvo?' Josh asks.
'Watching TV and doing an English assignment. You know me, I'm all about the partying,' I joke.
'I want to go see the new Marvel film at Southbank. Wanna come with?'
'Sure,' I blurt out before I think.
'Cool, we can catch the 1:50 train for the 2:30 show. Meet me here or there? I'll text you?' Josh stops as if surprised and takes a good look at me. 'Hang on. I don't have your number. What a fucking idiot. Here we are friends and I don't even have your number. Give it over.' He hands me his mobile and waits expectantly for me to punch in the number. I can barely breathe. I quickly wipe my hand on the seat as I grab the phone. I tap in the digits then save it under "Jess". As I hand it back, his fingers grasp around mine and the phone, and he looks straight into my eyes. It feels like he's looking straight into my soul.
I race home to get on chat, it's five in the morning in Seattle where Frankie lives but maybe he's up already and can help me. He'll know how to handle this. What I should wear? How I should act? Or should I just back out now?
Three weeks ago
Two days of feeling sick has brought me to this, Saturday morning. I barely slept last night, so I'm up and in the kitchen at 7 am. Vegemite on toast and a cup of tea. Not the most nutritious breakfast, but better than nothing. Matt and Dad lumber in and look at me with shocked expressions. I just nod and say, 'Hell did freeze over and the world is ending. I'm up, it's seven and it's Saturday. Get over it.'
'Well, as you're up, wanna come with us to the surf club? It's the last patrol of the season. There's a bonfire planned for tonight to welcome the winter season and the end of daily patrols.' Matt smiles as he asks.
With a lift of my eyebrows and a touch of contempt, I scoff, 'Umm, no.'
'But it'll be great. You used to love the beach and the club. Everyone there misses you,' Dad says as he looks at me with such a hopeful expression.
Breaking his heart I say, 'No, Dad, not yet. It's too damn hot with long pants and long sleeves.'
'Hey, borrow my long sleeve rashie.' Matt stops as he realises he hasn't really thought that through and blushes. 'Sorry.'
Their faces are drawn as they remember why I don't want go to the beach. I give them an out. 'Can't anyway, I'm going to the movies with Josh.' Their heads snap my way. Oh fuck, I didn't think that one through. Maybe it's genetic. Matt and I both speak without thinking. I laugh at myself, and that makes them stare at me more. I can see the wheels turning - a friend, movies, leaving the house - it's all too much for them in one go.
Matt rescues me, 'Great. Well, have fun then.' He asks Dad some stupid question about work, and Dad gets the picture. No more questions today.
I shower three times before I leave, I'm so nervous. I think I need Botox for my pits, I'm sweating that much. I settle on the black checked shirt, black jeans, black Docs and my black NY cap. When I look in the mirror, I notice a theme - black. I look like I'm going to a funeral and I sort of am. My own. I'm scared to death. At least I know these clothes look okay. I step outside and curse the scorching sun and the extra layers I have on. Whatever! This is my life now. Well, at least for next year or so. Better get used to it.
My phone vibrates. It's Josh. He's waiting at Hoyts. I breathe a sigh of relief, I won't have to talk to him on the train because he's already there. Time for me to get my head together and cool off on the air-conditioned train. My mobile beeps, an IM from Frankie wishing me luck.
It's after two when I get to the cinema and Josh is waiting. He looks fantastic: blue shorts, a white, open neck, short sleeve shirt and a pair of well-worn Cons on his feet. He's looking a bit red, like maybe he got a bit too much sun at footy this morning. I take a deep breath - okay so a short sharp breath because deep breaths hurt - and walk up to him.
'Hey.'
'Hey yourself. I got us tickets already because the line was outta hand.' He smiles and nods towards the snack bar. 'You get the choc tops and drinks, okay?'
We wander over and I get us each the special deal of a large Coke, popcorn and a choc top. Holy shit, thirty bucks. That's a rip off, but Josh paid for the tickets, so I guess he spent about the same.
The movie, Guardians of the Galaxy, is a great combination of all my Marvel heroes in one place.
All is well. I remember to breathe, and I like the comfort the darkness provides. In the dark, with no one looking, I can be who I'm meant to be. Not the freak I truly am. I can feel Josh's knee against my leg, and it feels nice. In fact, it feels right. I will myself to just stop the rise of panic and enjoy the way a simple touch from another person makes me feel. I have spent the past year afraid of people touching me. Today I will not worry, I will just enjoy. When he leans to put his drink in the cup holder nestled in the armrest between the seats, he touches my arm and I flinch. He looks at me with a questioning eyebrow lift, and I smile and murmur, 'Sorry.'
The movie ends, and we head out into the bright foyer. I hate that sensation of expecting it to be dark outside and it's not. Josh nods his head towards the toilet, 'I gotta take a piss after that bucket of Coke.' I nod and turn away, I need to go too but that will be more hassle than I can handle right now.
When Josh returns, we head out to the parklands. I need to sit down before my bladder explodes. I head straight to the grass beside the river and sink to the ground. Josh follows. We chat and joke as usual. When, suddenly, Josh looks down and takes a deep breath. Then he word vomits.
'I'm gay, just thought I should tell you.'
I feel my mouth drop open and my eyes grow wide. I nod, because what else would I do? I'm the freak here. His revelation is nothing compared to mine - if I can ever tell him. Now is not the time to run home but, if I don't want to pee my pants, I have to go now. Oh shit, I shouldn't go but I have to. I could try and use the public toilet but they give me panic attacks. And I feel bad if I use the disabled one and someone needs it. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. But abandoning Josh seems cruel too. But he will never understand that as a freak, I can't even pee like a normal person.
I give him a pat on the shoulder. 'That's cool.' I look around us anxiously. 'I'm really sorry but I've gotta get home.' He looks at me like I've grown two heads and I really am a freak. He reveals this huge part of himself and I just nod, smile and say that's cool. I stand up and apologise about running home. I give him another back slap and walk as fast as possible towards the train. Fuck me! I'm an idiot. Freak is an understatement. He looked so shocked and sad when I took off. My last glimpse, over my shoulder, was of a lonely guy, shoulders slumped and staring into the disgusting brown water that is the Brisbane River. But I can't tell him why I have to go or he won't talk to me ever again.
One Week Ago
I run like a demented duck up the ramp to the platform just as the train pulls in. My heart is beating wildly as I take a quick glance around for Josh. I can't see him. I find the nearest seat and throw myself into it as I try to catch my breath. Running is not recommended when wearing the binder, as it makes it hard to take deep breaths and I feel like my lungs only half work. But this is my life for now. My pocket vibrates, I dig out my mobile and smile as I notice the message.
Josh: Did you make the train?
Me: Yep, last carriage. Bloody alarm didn't work. Google can't work out my location and had me on Daylight Savings Time. Stupid thing almost made me miss the train.
I wait for a response and get nothing. I deserve less than this after the way I acted at Southbank. But Josh has been fine about it. He hasn't changed at all, still waits for me and chats on the train with me. We've even started texting silly, random stuff. I went to his place one day when footy training was cancelled. That was an adventure in awkward. 'No, I'm not hot, Josh.' And, 'I'm okay with the long sleeves'. Finally he left it alone, and we vegged out playing Call of Duty. Problem was - as I was leaving he gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. And didn't that set the cat amongst the pigeons, as my old Nan would say. I walked the fifteen minutes home completely unaware of everything except the way my cheek still tingled. I swear I could feel the warmth from his lips linger there. And that hug was my first hug with a boy. Holy shit. A boy hugged me. Me, the freak. I know he's gay, but maybe he'll be okay with my freak. Maybe there's a way to be together. Maybe he could be my boyfriend.
'Hey you. What ya thinking about? You've got a weird look on your face.' Josh has taken the seat next to me and I didn't even notice him. He looks at me expecting a response but there is no way I'm sharing my real thoughts!
'Uh, nothing. Just thinking about how stupid I must have looked running for the train.' I offer a wry smile, and he settles our backpacks on the floor for the twenty minute ride to school. We're friends, I'm sure of it. Frankie tells me to, 'Take a spoonful of concrete and harden the fuck up.' He says I should just ask Josh straight out, 'Are you my boyfriend?' Never gonna happen!
Today
What the fuck am I going to do? I've been sitting here, locked in the toilet for forty-five minutes. My throat hurts from holding in the pain and tears threaten to burst out at any moment. I know I made a couple of moaning sounds because I heard Nathan and James laugh and joke about a bad curry, but they left eventually.
Of course this had to happen now, just when everything was going great. Home was pretty good, and Matt didn't look at me with the worried, concerned look quite as much. I think he was just happy to see me eat. Dad had started calling me Jess, and not choking on my preferred name.
My friends in the chat room were really excited that I was passing and that my new school was free of the bullies and haters. I even had a friend - maybe more - but a friend nonetheless. Oh, shit. Josh! I wanted to tell him on my own, but I just hadn't found the right time. It was too good having a friend. I didn't want to be the freak anymore. I just want to be Jess. Maybe have a chance at a boyfriend. But no. I knew if my body fat increased this might happen.
It's normal. It's natural. It's fucked and I don't want it. This is not normal to me. My body is betraying me! Who the fuck is knocking on the door?
'I'm in here,' I whisper.
It's Josh. 'Jess? You okay? I've been looking for you. You said to meet you at the library. Someone said you were in the loo. I've been outside for a half hour. You okay? You sick? You need to go home?' Josh is whispering too. And with that the tears fall and my throat releases a sob. 'Hey, mate… Jess…? You hurt? Someone do something to ya?'
I can't breathe, I can only cry. I'm such a fucking fool. I can't do this anymore. I just want to be normal. The bell rings and the noise outside peaks then subsides as everyone races to class. But I can see Josh sitting on the floor leaning against the door. The floor is disgusting. In fact the whole place reeks of piss, not a single boy can piss straight. 'Josh, just go to class, okay? I'm fine.'
'No, you're not. I'm staying until you come out. We're mates. Friends. Maybe even more than that. I can't just leave you here.' He sounds so genuine, so concerned that I just say it.
'Can you go to the office and ask the nurse for a pad?' My face is burning and the tears won't stop. I have no idea what he's thinking. Then he just gets up and leaves. I completely lose it. I can't stop the tears, the wracking sobs. Nothing stops them. I bang my head on the stall wall and rip off more and more loo paper to blow my nose. I'm a freak. I'm a boy with a period. My binder is so tight that crying makes it hard to breathe. I unbutton my shirt to try and relieve the pressure. But I just need to take the binder off. I scramble to wriggle and manoeuvre myself around the cubicle. It takes forever to pull it over my head. Probably longer because I can't stop crying. This just confirms my freak status. I sit on the closed toilet sit and sob some more.
I see shoes outside the cubicle and a familiar hand passes a small, white paper bag under the door. As I reach out, I can tell it's Josh. 'I'll wait outside for you okay? Okay Jess? We can go right home. The nurse said I could go with you. All right. And I am going with you. Okay mate? I'll be just outside. No one will come in, I promise.'
I sit on the closed toilet seat and stare at the floor where his feet just were. He's waiting for me. He's my friend - maybe more - he said. Me, the freak. I get myself together, well as together as I'm gonna be after an hour of crying and sobbing and cramps.
Just as I'm washing my hands and wiping my face I hear music coming from where Josh is waiting:
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me.