Identity

by Zoë Blade

  Produced by Al Haines

  Cover art]

  Identity

  A short story by Zoe Blade

  (C) 2008 Zoe Blade. Distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

  "Flat-chested Faye, flat-chested Faye," chanted the girls on the tablenext to Faye and Rebecca's. The large hall smelled of cabbages,potatoes and baked beans, and everyone else was talking and eating andmoving chairs so loudly that Faye could hardly hear herself think.

  "Just ignore them," suggested Rebecca.

  Faye didn't say anything. She opened her lunchbox and fished around inher deep blazer pockets for her medication. She teased a pill out ofthe bottle and washed it down with some orange squash from her HelenFryer thermos flask.

  "It's not healthy to have secrets, you know." Rebecca peered across ather, trying to make out the label on the bottle.

  "They're called antiandrogens." Faye slipped the bottle back into herpocket. "I told you, I have a hormonal imbalance, that's all." Itwasn't even a white lie, she told herself. It was just being vague.

  "Is that why you haven't... you know... developed yet?" Rebecca took abite out of her sandwich.

  "It's not healthy to be so pushy, either." Faye forced herself tostart eating her lunch; she wasn't feeling hungry.

  "Sorry," said Rebecca. She took a sip of her drink. "It's just thatit's not the same without you during swimming lessons. Who else am Igoing to tease?"

  "I'm sure there must be someone," said Faye.

  Rebecca looked up as she thought to herself. "How come you're notallowed to go swimming with us, anyway? Just because you haven'tstarted puberty yet? I mean, Jenny's way behind everyone else too andshe still goes swimming."

  "I'd rather not talk about it." Faye didn't dare to look up from herfood. She could already feel herself getting the kind of headache thatmeant she'd start crying soon if she wasn't careful. She tried tochange the subject. "Have you done the new Fryer episode?"

  "What, this?" Rebecca pulled a silver disc out of her blazer pocket,holding it up for Faye to see. "You want to try it?"

  "I think I could be persuaded." Faye looked up long enough for hereyes to meet Rebecca's. Big mistake. She tried not to think about howthey seemed to radiate a sense of playful mischief, or about the curlytrusses of auburn hair partially hiding them.

  Rebecca handed the disc to Faye, and for an instant, their handstouched as she took it from her.

  "Thanks." Faye slid the disc into her pocket and tried to concentrateon finishing her meal.

  Faye stared up at a bright blue sky that wasn't there and listened to adozen conversations about nothing in particular. She breathed indeeply, savouring the scent of the freshly cut grass she wasn't reallylying on. Although she was actually lying on her bed, her senses wereall being hijacked by the Digitac player lying next to her as itreplayed the sensory input of Helen Fryer, one of the country's mostpopular actresses. She saw and heard everything that Helen did, butshe was helpless to try and direct her where she wanted to go. She wasjust an observer, albeit a very intimate one.

  Faye felt someone squeeze her hand, and turned to face him. Naturally,it was James. He had the kind of rugged good looks that were currentlyconsidered attractive by most of the girls in her class. His bleachedblonde hair was just long enough to get in the way of his hazel eyes,and whenever she kissed him, his stubble felt like sandpaper. Shewasn't quite sure if she had a type yet, but if she did, Jamesdefinitely wasn't it.

  "I love you, James," she felt herself say.

  "I love you too, Helen," said James. His smile widened, and Faye felthers do the same. He leaned towards her. She reciprocated, closingher eyes. As their lips met, she started to open her mouth, lettinghim separate her lips with his tongue.

  _Eww_, thought Faye as she opened her eyes and groped around for herDigitac player's stop button, overwhelmed by the two sets of imagescompeting in her head. She pressed it just in time. Suddenly, thebright blue sky was replaced with the various posters of female rockstars that lined her bedroom's walls. The chattering of passers-bycame to an abrupt end, and in its place she could hear the dull murmurof her parents' old fashioned flatscreen television downstairs.

  Looking down at herself, Faye sighed wistfully. At least she'd slippedout of the unfashionable blazer, blouse, polyester skirt and opaqueblack tights of her school uniform. Instead, she was wearing a lightpink spaghetti top over a padded bra--as if _that_ was foolinganybody--and a blue denim miniskirt, clothes she wouldn't mind actuallybeing seen in, but that didn't change the fact that the other girls wereright. She _was_ flat-chested.

  She reached into her bedside drawer, lifted up a stack of glossymagazines and pulled out the Digitac disc she'd been too embarrassed totell anyone about.

  She read the disc's title: _The Kelly Travis Workout Experience_. Ithad come free with a packet of cereal, the kind that wasn't covered insugar. It was meant to show you that working out at a Kelly Travis gymwasn't as difficult as you thought it was. Faye ejected the HelenFryer disc and tossed it onto the bed next to the player, then slid theKelly Travis disc in and pressed play.

  Within moments, she was running on a treadmill in front of a fulllength mirror. She could smell her own sweat, sharp and strong, but itdidn't matter. Closing her eyes again, she stared at her own face, orat least the face of a nameless actress, blue eyes staring back at herfrom behind a blonde fringe, smiling with determination and theknowledge that she could push herself further this time. Digitacactresses almost always smiled. She pushed a few buttons on thetreadmill's keypad, and it beeped in reply as the motor sped up.

  Her muscles soon started to ache, but it was worth it. She could feelevery inch of her fully developed and well defined body. Everyfootstep filled her with the kind of satisfaction she couldn't get inreal life. She was supple and slender, but not dangerously thinanymore. She was fully grown, with curves she would do anything tohave in real life.

  Without warning, Faye felt a tap on her shoulder. She pressed the stopbutton on the player again and opened her eyes.

  "Your father and I would like to have a word with you when you'reready." Her mother was standing by the bed, looking down at her.

  "What did I do?" protested Faye.

  "It's nothing like that."

  Faye squinted up at her mother, shielding her eyes from the bedroomlight with her hand. "What do you want then?"

  Her mother sighed in frustration. "Please, just come down."

  By the time Faye walked into the lounge, the television was off. Herparents were sitting in silence, staring at the fireplace. It wasstill covered in cards wishing Faye a happy birthday.

  "Please, sit down, dear," suggested her mother.

  Faye sat down on the couch, facing both her parents. They lookedsolemn, like the time her uncle had died.

  Her mother cleared her throat. "You know how you're... different fromthe other girls?"

  "I don't like Helen Fryer as much," suggested Faye.

  "Not that." Her mother sounded frustrated again now.

  "Your body," said her father, almost apologetically. "You know, thereason you work on your algebra while your friends have their swimminglessons."

  "Oh." Faye suddenly realised what they were getting at. "_That_."She looked down at the shag carpet.

  Years ago, her parents had sat her down for a similar talk. They hadtold her about how all babies have thorough medical checks these days,ever since the government worked out that prevention was cheaper thancure. When she'd had hers, the high definition MRI scan had apparentlyrevealed that she was a perfectly healthy baby girl--despite her bodygiving her the appearance of a perfectly healthy baby boy.

  It was an age old condition, her
parents had told her. In a funny sortof way, they'd said, she was lucky to have been born when she was. Asrecently as a few decades earlier, people with her medical issue had towork it out for themselves after decades and sometimes even lifetimesof mental anguish. Nowadays it was something your doctor told yourparents at birth.

  "I know you don't exactly like your body," said her father.

  "I look like a freak," muttered Faye.

  "That's not true," said her mother sharply. "You look just as lovelyas any of your friends."

  Faye didn't say anything. It simply wasn't true. Karen and Sarah andLouise all had to start wearing training bras