Unity

Chapter Ten

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My tiny feet stormed up the stairs to my new room in our brand new house. I felt as if I could win the "Worlds Happiest Boy" contest, for I felt more ecstatic than I've ever witnessed anyone to be. My body slammed against my blue-blanketed bed as my laughs filled the room.

Then I looked down. My eyes filled with rejoice. I stared down at my binder* as if it were real holy water. I had never seen anything that had made me smile so brightly before, after all, it was just a piece of clothing.

I struggled to pull the binder over my chest, for it had been my first time ever wearing a binder. It hurt more than I thought it would, but when I threw on a shirt over it, I saw a sight that astonished me.

I looked like a boy. Not just a little girly boy or an I-can't-tell-if-that's-a-boy-or-a-girl-boy, no. I looked like a real boy. My hair, the same as it has always been, was shoulder length and layered a bit, fell messily around and on my face and my clothes were loose enough to hide my small waist and slightly out-turned hips and narrowing thighs. No one would question me. How could anyone question me? I look ultra-masculine! Well, about as masculine as a trans-guy gets...

I took my hop down the stairs and ran towards my mother, who I smiled at happily. Not to my surprise, she didn't share the same bliss as I did, but I cared not.

"How do I look?!" I outstretched my arms to her, only to hear her scoff, rather dramatically, if anyone's to ask me.

"You look like an ugly boy with man-boobs." My face turned bright red, due to how well I thought my binder worked.

"I'll go tighten my binder..." I slythered up the stairs, threw off my shirt, and messed with the clips on the side of the binder. I tightened them by two notches, which was unbearably painful, but I had to to try and look more believable.

I flew down the stairs, yet again, and spun around for my mother.

"How about now?" She stared at me, with yet another diminishing glare, and folded her arms.

"Now you just look scrawny. Either way, I don't really care how you look. And besides, the only reason I'm letting you do this is because you kept persisting year after year after year until I just wanted to smack you and beat you each time you spoke a word." My throat gulped back some spit I've been holding in my mouth from the beginning of my mother's speech.

"Okay..." My 12-year-old mind quickly forgot about my mother's response as I checked do go see where my dad was. I spotted him in the kitchen, fixing my mother breakfast, as usual. "Hey, dad!" He spun around and gave me a sharp look, as to say, 'what?'.

"What do you want?" Although his remark sent a hasty vibe, I was too ecstatic to be let down by that.

"I'm wearing my binder!" He eyed me like a piece of meat and flashed his eyes back onto the eggs he was frying with a seemingly disgusted tone.

"You're still a pussy." My ecstasy quickly morphed into the same sadness I've felt since... how old am I?

"Okay, thanks anyways. I'm going to walk to my new school now. Bye," my head hung low as I tried to figure my way to my new middle school. I turned corners and even crossed a lake until I finally found a large building with my school's name molded into the front. Here it is...

My tiny feet staggered their way in through the front doors as my eyes darted back and forth. I hadn't approached anyone, and to be frank, I hadn't the need to. I hadn't realized that since it was my first year, I would be needing to stop in the attendance, but the secretary came to me first.