The Queer Rebels

Chapter 10: Chewing

In the expansive food court, everything is set up buffet-style. Trays of pizza and bowls of salad are laid out on tables that have been pushed together along one wall.

I keep looking around, waiting for more men in uniform to appear. Or new strange noises to bang or clunk in the distance. But everyone else seems to be at ease.

That worries me even more.

We grab plates and pile them high before finding places to sit.

I follow Marcy, and she follows Jenelle. Tyree skipped the salad and is already sitting, cutting into a single slice of cheese pizza with a knife and fork. There are only four seats around each square table, so Alex is sitting with another group. They smile at me as I pass by.

We sit, and as I pick up a slice of hot, cheesy pizza, orange grease drips down onto my no-longer masculinized hand. Does it seem even more feminine than before? Or is that just my imagination? Either way, I miss having the change, and I can't wait to be able to transition my own body.

Before I take a bite, I look over at Marcy. "How'd your session go?" I ask.

My timing is off. She's just bitten down on her own slice. Her eyes go to Jenelle, who half-shrugs. A hint of a smile tugs at her lips.

There's an intimacy in the look that passes between them, and I feel a twinge of something.

Jealousy?

I look between Marcy and Jenelle. They both possess a confidence that I can never seem to muster. A comfortableness in their own skin. An easy grace.

But before I can analyze this any further, Jenelle speaks, her eyes meeting Marcy's, not mine. "Your girl has a lot of potential."

The way she says your girl makes me wonder about her intentions. If she can sense how special Marcy is.

"I believe it," I say. "She's always top of the class."

And it's true. She's the type of student who starts an essay the day it's assigned. Re-reads her notes while they're still fresh to make sure they make sense. Actually goes to office hours for clarification.

"Oh, stop it," Marcy says while still chewing, rolling her eyes. "Jenelle let me try on some wearable tech, and I wasn't able to really do anything. But..." She swallows and looks at Jenelle. "I felt a spark."

My teeth clench at how she says it.

"It was your first time, and you're only nineteen," Jenelle reassures her, reaching out to squeeze Marcy's forearm. "Your frontal cortex is still developing, and it's our impulse control that interacts with wearable tech. That's why our Choosing Days are when they are, you know. Back in the day, you used to have to wait until you were twenty-five."

If Jenelle knows Marcy's age, I guess she must have told Jenelle that she escaped with me. I wonder what else they talked about this morning.

What other sparks were flying.

"Yeah," Tyree cuts in, laughing. "Not everyone can be as gifted as me."

"Ignore him," Jenelle says, shaking her head and taking her hand back from Marcy's arm. "My brother thinks he's special because he's one of the youngest here."

"Brother?" I ask.

Looking between them, I can see how they are siblings. His hair and skin are a richer brown than hers, but they both have high cheekbones and round-tipped noses. It must be nice to have family here. Family who understands you.

"Yeah," Jenelle says, "I came here about two months ago, on my Choosing Day, like most of us. But when I learned the truth, I was worried about Tyree. He's always been—"