Trans Boy

eighteen. letters to the dead

imma start another book based off like, five years past this event. maybe that'll make me feel more inclined to write this and actually motivate me? i hope? idk i can't stop thinking about the way these characters are gonna be affected in their futures so hey, y'all're gonna get a shitty new story. 

(it'll be called "pretty boy" if you care and maybe better formatted than this. also, i'm gonna go through this and fix grammar and some other things that are bugging me like the formatting and shit. fun times)

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Today we were asked to write letters. It didn't matter if they were to someone in camp, to our families, or to a stranger. I was half-tempted to write a random address and complain to someone about my problems. I didn't, but I wanted to.

I ended up writing to Maddie instead. I told her about the friends I was making. I told her that the camp was nice and the people were even better. I told her that it wasn't like what our parents thought it was, and I asked her not to tell them. I wondered if I could trust Maddie so much. I always thought she had my back, because more often than not she did and I had hers, but I still wondered if she was going to tell them. Go and blab about how they were really just making me more sure about who I was (which wasn't working, I was still pretty confused).

I finished by signing my name, not Jessica. I hoped she understood at the least. She'd always been good about standing up for me around people, but she never called me her brother or Danny. She always told her friends I was there, saying my sister is here, or Jessie's upstairs, don't be so loud. Or at least, something to that extent. I know she didn't do it to be mean or to hurt me, she just didn't understand.

I folded the paper and shoved it in a plain white envelope. Chrissie sat beside me, putting more than extra effort into making her letter pop. Then, she put it in the biggest envelope and added more glitter and color to it. She smiled at me.

"My gran is a dick. She thinks I'm going to hell, and she hates seeing glitter and rainbows because it reminds her of gays. She thinks it's all propaganda."

I nodded slowly. Why was she sending her grandma a letter of all people? Especially if she was so disapproving of Chrissie? I didn't understand that part, but I could see why she was putting so much effort into it. I'd be too scared to do that to someone I lived with. If Mum or Dad saw that they'd be more pissed than before when I went home.

Our home address was burned into my mind. It'd been the same exact house since I was born and they'd made me learn our address when I was six because I had a tendency to get lost. I didn't blame them. By the time my seventh birthday came, I could recite it like a poem. It scared a lot of our neighbors and my arts teacher. She didn't like me anyway, though--that was just an add-on.

Chloe walked by to collect them all, stopping after taking mine to look at Chrissie. "Okay. . ." She spoke slowly. "Where's the address, Chris?" Chrissie leaned forward, pointing to the direct centre. Below it was a rainbow sticker with smiley faces on the clouds. Chloe laughed and nodded, thanking her and continuing with collecting them.

"You got some glitter--" I stopped, looking at Chrissie. It was on her clothes, her hands, in her hair--she'd done that intentionally, I know that--as well as on the table and some on me.

"What's that?" She asked with a manic grin. I couldn't help but smile as well.

"Never mind. Nice card."

She shrugged and went about cleaning her mess, shaking herself when she stood up to make some of the glitter fall on the table. Whoever sat there next was really in for a treat.

"What'd it say?" I asked, growing more curious about what Chrissie had to say to her grandma.

She kept sweeping her hand over the table for a minute before looking at me. "What? Oh. Just me telling her we were having the gayest orgies, sacrificing babies, and nonstop bashing religion. Y'know, the usual." I laughed softly and she smiled proudly. "Think she'll like it?"

"I think she might take it pretty literally."

Chrissie threw her hands up in victorious triumph and shouted "Perfect!"

"Yeah," I agreed, "perfect." It didn't sound like something that would really make family relations any better, but then again, Chrissie didn't seem like someone who cared about that. She was clearly someone who was fine burning bridges if she was having fun along the way. I wished I could be that carefree and easygoing.