. . . to kittens last night! We didn’t even know the pooch was pregnant, and then out popped, like, thirty kittens. Medical miracle. It’s going to be in the paper tomorrow!”
“You have a dog?”
“I do now,” I say. “And baby kittens. I’m going to be really busy with them all year, actually.”
He raises one eyebrow, clearly not enjoying my ruse. “Georgia, you and me? We are it. Just give me a chance.”
I should say no and end this. That’s what a decent person would do.
Instead I say, “It’s you and I, Jake, not you and me,” and walk into class.
Clearly, I’m not a decent person.
Jake yells behind me, “That’s a very mixed message, Georgia!”
I walk into class a minute late—damn you, Jake Carter—and find a desk in the back. Mrs. Lunsford is calling attendance: Jenny Fitzgerald, Soo Park, Orion Thompson. I know all these names. I look around at all the familiar faces. We have grown up together, and I will miss them after we graduate. This morning was too chaotic, but it finally sinks in while I’m sitting here—this is the ending of a huge chapter of my life.
I spent most of the summer dreading this day. After what happened with Anthony, I haven’t felt like myself. But it’s my last year of high school, and I am going to make the best of it. If I can stay away from dating, this could be a fun year.
The classroom door swings open, and in walks an unfamiliar face. He hands Mrs. Lunsford a slip of paper. Wait, that’s him. The guy from earlier. Our eyes have been to first base.
Mrs. Lunsford looks up from the paper. “This is your real name, son?”
“Yes,” he says, ignoring a few laughs.
“Class, say hello to our new student, Pony!”
Pony?
We welcome the new guy with a few claps and neighing sounds. He’s surprisingly chill for walking into a new classroom for the first time. I’d be a bumbling mess.
“Pony,” the teacher says, “tell the class about yourself.”
And nothing. He just stands there, frozen. “Son?” Mrs. Lunsford asks softly.
“Sorry,” he finally says, and the class nervously laughs. “Not much to tell, really.”
“No?” Mrs. Lunsford asks.
“I’m from Midland High School. We moved to Addison this summer.”
I’m happy to get a closer look at this dude. He’s slim, medium height, in a black short-sleeved shirt buttoned all the way up and a pair of bright blue Vans. Freshly cut and styled black hair. He’s cute in a soft way, like a young Leo DiCaprio. I’m talking babyface Leo before the Titanic went down.
Mrs. Lunsford claps her hands. “Welcome to Hillcrest, Pony. Take the desk in the back beside the cheerleader. Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite.”
“I can’t make that promise,” I say, and the class laughs.
PONY, 9:07 A.M.
I walk back to my desk and feel every eye on me. Sizing me up. I try to remind myself that it’s my first day: they’re looking because I’m new, not because I’m transgender. They don’t know I’m transgender.
I sit down and think of what I said in front of the class. What a mess. The teacher starts into the lesson, and I slowly feel the attention shifting away from me. I relax my shoulders and secretly text my sister: Smooth sailing so far.
I hit Send and almost instantly get a reply: DON’T FUCK IT UP, BRO!
My sister has a way with words. She doesn’t agree with what I’m doing, but she knows it’s what I want.
I turn my head and catch a cheerleader looking at me. Not just a cheerleader, the cheerleader. I perk up, remembering to square my shoulders and push my chest out. I probably over puff. She’s too pretty to be looking at me. Or maybe she can tell I’m trans? I play it cool by immediately turning away.
At the end of class, the cheerleader raises her hand. I sneak a look at her while she waits to be called on. She’s got shoulder-length brown hair, perfectly straight. Her face is perfect. Her smile, also perfect. Her eyes, freckles, ears, all perfect.
“Mrs. Lunsford,” she says without being called on, “just wanted you to know that I volunteer at the homeless shelter at night, so I can’t do homework.”
The class laughs, and before Mrs. Lunsford can respond, the bell rings.
Everyone files out of the classroom without giving me a second thought—the novelty of the new kid has already worn off. I hit the packed hallway and get lost in the crowd. I’m invisible, like a ghost haunting