The Other Boy

by M. G. Hennessey

  “You had all these stories, too. When you came to wake us up every morning, you’d spend ten minutes telling us about all the adventures fairy horse had the night before. You’d rescued kittens from trees, you’d fought dragons . . . it was pretty incredible, the stuff you came up with.” He smiled. “Do you remember that?”

  “No,” I said, mentally willing him to just start the car already.

  Dad sighed again. “I know it sounds selfish, but what I’m getting at is that for a long time, you were my little girl.”

  “But—”

  “I know,” he said, holding up a hand to cut me off. “You weren’t a girly girl, we knew that right away. I think you liked the horse costume because you didn’t want to wear skirts or dresses anymore. I never really cared about any of that. But in some ways, I guess it feels like I’ve lost my little girl. Sitting in that doctor’s office, all I could think was that we were saying good-bye to her forever.”

  I examined my hands, feeling awful. Like I’d disappointed him by not being the kid he’d wanted; and angry that he was making me feel that way. No matter how many times I’d tried explaining it, I couldn’t convince him that the little girl he remembered had never actually existed. “So you wish I was a girl, and now you’re forcing me to become one.”

  “That’s not it at all.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, basically,” I muttered.

  “Well, I’m trying, Shane.”

  I glared at him. “What if you woke up tomorrow, and someone had switched your body while you were asleep?”

  “What, like a Freaky Friday thing?” He looked perplexed.

  “Yeah, sure. And suddenly, you had a girl body. Would you automatically feel like a girl? I mean, you’d have the same brain. All that changed was your body.”

  He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t born that way—”

  “But neither was I!” I said impatiently. “I was born with a boy brain, just in the wrong body. It sucks.”

  He sat there for a long time. Other people were coming out of the restaurant, chattering and laughing with each other. The silence in the car felt heavy and thick. Finally, he said, “I guess I never really thought about it that way.”

  “Well, that’s how it is,” I muttered. “So I’m not trying to be something I’m not. I’ve always been like this.”

  “Maybe if we just wait a little longer—”

  “It won’t make a difference,” I said, exasperated. “I’ll just do it on my own as soon as they let me. Now can we go already?”

  He still didn’t start the car. Again I debated getting out and walking, figuring I’d rather be in trouble with Mom than have to sit here for another five minutes.

  “All right,” he sighed.

  “All right what?”

  He gave me a weak smile. “If you really understand what this means, what you’re giving up, well . . . it’s your body. Your life. I just worry that you’ll end up regretting it.”

  I practically stopped breathing. “You mean it?”

  “Like you said, you’ll eventually do it anyway. At least this way, maybe you won’t end up hating me.”

  He looked sad, but I didn’t care—I threw my arms around him. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, kiddo,” he said thickly. “You’re my whole world.”

  TEN

  I was pretty bleary at school the next day, because Dad and I stayed up late eating junk food and watching a movie about alien robots. But I felt about a million times better. On the phone last night, Mom promised to talk to Dr. Anne about the testosterone. She said we might even be able to get it in a day or so.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Dr. Anne had said the changes might take time: it would be just like regular puberty, and everyone went through it at different rates. But I was kind of hoping I’d at least start growing chest hair, like Dad.

  Dad promised that the next time I visited, we’d go somewhere fun with Summer, maybe even to a Giants game. He kept talking about how nice she was, and how much she’d liked me, which was ridiculous, since we’d barely said two words to each other. I wanted to tell him not to try so hard, but we were both in such a great mood I decided not to risk ruining it.

  I was feeling so good that when I saw Madeline at her locker after first period, I did something that qualified as either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. I walked boldly up to her and said, “Hey.”

  “Hey!” She turned and smiled at me, nearly dropping the stack of books she was holding. I reached out and helped straighten them. “Thanks.”

  “I saw you at practice yesterday,” I said, leaning against the locker next to hers.

  “Yeah, I went with Olive.” Madeline’s eyes went wide. “Wow, you throw the ball really fast! Are you, like, really, really good?”

  I flushed. “I guess I’m okay. Are you coming to the next game?”

  “What, the regionals? Yeah, sure.”

  “Cool.” I nodded a few times, trying not to let the excitement show on my face. “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to go to a movie or something?”

  “What?” She stared at me like I’d just said something completely crazy.

  “Um . . .” My cheeks burned. “The new Fast and Furious is supposed to be pretty good.”

  “The one with the cars?” Her forehead wrinkled.

  “Or whatever,” I said quickly. How did people do this? On TV, when a guy asked a girl out, he was always really slick about it, and she always said yes. Madeline looked just as uncomfortable as I felt; I could tell she was trying to figure out what to say. “You know what? It’s cool. Forget it.”

  I started walking away, but Madeline called after me, “Shane, wait!”

  “Yeah?” I asked, turning around.

  Coming over, she said in a low voice, “Um, it’s totally lame, but my parents think I’m still too young to go out with a boy.”

  “Oh, okay.” A rush of relief flooded over me.

  “But maybe . . . I mean, if you want, you could come over and study sometime? I think they’d be okay with that.”

  “Yeah?” I was pretty sure she could hear my heart thudding around my chest like a crazed bat. “Cool.”

  “I’ll ask today, okay?” She smiled at me.

  “Sure.”

  “Great. See you later.” She gave me a little wave and walked off. I stared after her, feeling like gravity had released me and I was floating a couple of inches above the ground.

  “What’s going on?” Josh asked, coming up behind me.

  “Huh? Nothing.” I adjusted my backpack straps.

  “You look funny,” he said suspiciously. “Like, all smiley.”

  “I am not.” I forced a scowl.

  “Whatever, dude. Gotta warn you, there’s a pop quiz in Spanish.”

  That brought me down quick. “Seriously?”

  “Yup. Dylan said Señor Cordero gave one in first period, so we’ll have it, too.”

  “That sucks,” I muttered. I hadn’t studied at all last night. Dad and I had been too busy.

  “Totally.” Josh walked down the hall with me. “Want to come over after practice?”

  “Um, I can’t.”

  He stopped, a hurt look on his face. “Why not? I’ve got the new Anomaly.”

  “Sorry, I’ve got to hang out with my mom.” The truth was, I couldn’t wait to find out what Dr. Anne said. I wouldn’t be able to pay attention to anything else.

  “All right, weirdo,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Tomorrow?”

  I hesitated; what if Madeline got permission for me to come over then? “Maybe.”

  Josh stared at me, looking puzzled. “Are we cool?”

  “Yeah.” I pumped my fist up the way we usually did.

  But he didn’t do it back. Sounding annoyed, Josh said, “Whatever,” and walked away.

  “Hey, Josh, wait.” But he didn’t stop. I watched as he pushed through the double doors
to the stairwell without looking back.

  Madeline showed up to watch practice again. She kept waving at me from the bleachers, which made her friends dissolve into giggles. I waved back once, then tried to avoid looking at her. It was hard, though. I played better than yesterday, but not by much.

  Josh kept looking back and forth between me and Madeline, wearing a sour expression like something smelled bad. In the locker room after practice, he barely spoke to me. I wasn’t sure why he was so upset; when I tried to talk to him about it, he brushed me off. He can never stay mad for long, I told myself. Still, it was hard because we almost never fought.

  Mom picked me up after practice. I practically ran to the car, and before the door was shut I asked breathlessly, “So what’d she say?”

  Mom laughed. “Well, hello to you, too.”

  “Hi, Mom. I love you. Now what did Dr. Anne say?”

  Mom reached out and tugged the rim of my ball cap. “How was practice?”

  I groaned. She was smiling, so it had to be good news. Typical Mom, she’d drag it out just to torture me. “It was fine. What did the doctor say?”

  “Asking over and over won’t make me tell you any faster,” she said breezily. I made an exasperated noise as she turned onto the main road.

  “How’s your dad?”

  “Fine.”

  “And the Marmont?”

  “Fine.”

  “Ah, so we’re playing that game,” she said knowingly. “What about math?”

  I made a face; she knew I hated math. Gritting my teeth, I said, “Fine.”

  Mom laughed again. “By the way, who was that girl?”

  “What girl?”

  “The cute redhead who waved at you.”

  “Madeline,” I muttered.

  “I’ve always loved that name,” Mom said. “So what’s Madeline like?”

  I scrunched down lower in my seat. “I don’t know. Nice.”

  Her voice got serious. “Do you like her?”

  “Like her?”

  “You know what I mean. I don’t know, are they still calling it a crush these days?”

  I buried my face in my hand. “This. Is. So. Embarrassing.”

  “Aw, c’mon.” Mom reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “You’re not a teenager yet. Tell me something, at least.”

  “I did. I told you she’s nice.”

  “Okay.” Quirking an eyebrow, she added, “Fine.”

  Then she took a left instead of a right.

  “Um, Earth to Mom? We’re going the wrong way.”

  “We are?” Mom feigned innocence, her eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

  “Mom, seriously. I need to get home and do homework.”

  She took a left into a drugstore parking lot. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if we made one quick stop.”

  I suddenly realized this was our usual pharmacy. “Wait—”

  Mom broke into a wide grin. “Your prescription should be ready. Dr. Anne called it in at lunchtime.”

  I threw my arms around her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so so much. . . .”

  Mom hugged me back. Her eyes were a little misty when she finally pulled away. “I know, best mom ever, am I right? Now let’s go get your medicine.”

  ELEVEN

  “And just like that, you’re dead,” Josh crowed.

  I growled and hit the reset button. “No fair. You already did this level.”

  “Hey, you could’ve come to play yesterday,” Josh said with a shrug. We were sitting on his living room floor in front of the TV, watching the pinwheel spin as Anomaly reset. “How was hanging with your mom?”

  “Fine,” I said, repressing a twinge of guilt. Keeping this huge part of my life from him was really hard. I’d come close to telling him so many times but always chickened out. I was terrified that even if Josh pretended it was okay, he’d act different around me. That happened with some of my friends in San Francisco. I didn’t think I could stand it again.

  “Hey,” he said, throwing a chip at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” I muttered, tossing it back.

  “You’ve been weird lately.” The game restarted, and we both maneuvered our tanks toward a tower. “Is it because of Madeline?”

  “What?” I said, startled.

  “Please.” He rolled his eyes. “Just admit it already—you like her. Hey, watch out, that’s an ambush!”

  I groaned as my convoy was blasted apart again. “Man, this is harder than the last version.”

  “Yeah, but better, too.” He pressed a button to reinitiate the start sequence. “So?”

  “So what?” I said.

  “You like Madeline?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I like her.”

  “Yeah, but do you like her like her?” he said in a high, fake voice.

  I frowned and mumbled, “I don’t know. I mean, she’s cool.”

  “Yeah, she’s all right.” Josh was facing the game again, not looking at me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” The hurt was plain in his voice. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you don’t want to talk about it.”

  I struggled to think of what to say; this was easily the most uncomfortable conversation we’d ever had. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it. It’s just . . . weird, you know?”

  His shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yeah.” After a beat, he added, “You’re weird.”

  I snorted. “No weirder than you.”

  “Oh, you’re definitely weirder than me.” He threw me a sidelong grin. “Hey, did your mom give you the talk yet?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Dude, my mom’s a midwife. I got the talk when I was in diapers.”

  Josh laughed, then said, “My dad came into my room the other night. I thought he was going to say something really bad, like they were getting divorced, because he looked so nervous. Then he asked if I had a crush on a girl.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup. And when I said no, he asked if I had one on a guy.”

  I started to laugh, then caught myself. “Do you?”

  He threw me a surprised look. “No.”

  “Because it’s cool if you do.”

  Josh groaned. “Oh my God, that’s exactly what Dad said. No, man, I like girls. I mean, I don’t like one of them more than the others, but I’m not gay. I’d tell you if I was.”

  My heart was pounding. If I’d ever wanted to come clean, this was pretty much the perfect time.

  But what if he freaked out? The pressure built in my chest, and my stomach twisted. I tried to figure out what to say, and how to say it.

  Onscreen, my tank blew up again.

  “Dude! You suck!” Josh laughed and punched my shoulder.

  The moment had passed. Relieved, I swallowed hard and said, “I do kind of want Madeline to be my girlfriend.”

  “I knew it!” he exclaimed, sitting up so fast he knocked over the bag of chips. “And she likes you too, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think I’m going to study at her house sometime.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want to come over,” he said shrewdly. After a long beat, he asked, “So what does that mean?”

  “Huh?”

  “I mean, what do you do with a girlfriend? Hold her hand and stuff?” Josh looked embarrassed, like he should know the answer.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Josh leaned in and said, “I heard Brooklyn let Nico get to first base.”

  “Really?” There were lots of rumors about Brooklyn, which was probably why she always looked kind of sad. I hesitated, then asked, “What’s first base again?”

  Josh stared at me for a beat, then burst out laughing. “I don’t know! I thought you did.”

  “Why, because I like Madeline?” I laughed too. “Hey, maybe you should ask your dad.”

  That set Josh rolling around on the floor. We were both laughing so hard, it was tough to breathe. Finally, through gasps, he said, “Some baseb
all experts we are. We don’t even know what the bases mean!”

  That set us off again. Josh’s mom appeared in the doorway. “What’s so funny?”

  “Baseball!” Josh barked. We both collapsed in giggles.

  She stared at the mess we’d made: pretty much the entire bag of chips was crushed into the carpet. “Josh! Clean this up!”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Choi,” I gasped.

  We crawled around on our hands and knees, scooping the bigger pieces back into the bag. Every time we caught each other’s eye, we’d start cracking up again.

  While Josh went over the carpet with the vacuum, I checked my phone. “Oh, man. I’ve got to get home.”

  “Yeah, almost dinnertime,” Josh agreed. “No chips tonight!”

  We both snorted. Then he gave me a serious look. “You know, you could’ve just told me.”

  I pulled on my backpack. “I guess I felt weird about it.”

  “Well, don’t.” Josh stood up and clapped me on the shoulder. Imitating Señor Cordero, he said, “My leetle boy is becoming a man.”

  I slapped his hand away, and he cuffed me on the side of the head.

  “See you tomorrow?” I said from the doorway.

  “Yeah. See you.”

  The next morning I examined myself in the mirror, lifting my arms and flexing my biceps. Then I leaned in to check if I’d sprouted a mustache yet.

  Nothing, which was a little disappointing. Mom had given me the first shot as soon as we got back from the drugstore. I’d never liked needles, but this one was pretty small and hadn’t hurt much. And heck, I’d do pretty much anything for chest hair.

  When Dr. Anne had explained over Skype how testosterone worked, she’d warned that it would take time to notice any changes. I’d jokingly asked if doubling up on the shots would make it go faster; she’d laughed, but then got really serious about how bad things could happen. “Just stick to the dosage, Shane,” she’d said. “Trust me, it’ll all come in time.”

  Easy for her to say—she wasn’t in junior high.

  At least something was happening, even if I couldn’t see it yet. I pulled on a shirt and took the stairs two at a time. Mom was in the kitchen, holding her head in both hands. When she saw me, she smiled weakly. “How are you feeling, honey?”