The Queer Rebels

Chapter 14: Conspiring

It's unsettling how pitch-black the morning is.

As I lie awake, Marcy's steady breathing offers a comforting rhythm in the otherwise silent space. The events of last night replay in my mind, the muffled voices and footsteps echoing in my ears.

What did Harry mean? Who was he talking to?

Beside me, Marcy stirs. Each little movement she makes sends an exhilarating shiver down my spine. After a moment, she rolls over, and her hand lands on my stomach.

"Did you sleep okay?" she murmurs, her fingers gentle against my torso, careful not to intrude the territory of my unbound flesh.

"Yeah," I say with a sigh. "Still thinking about what we heard."

"Hmm," she agrees and scooches closer to me, her breath hot against my neck.

In the darkness, I grope for her shoulder and pull her even closer.

We lay in silence, holding each other in the dark. Too soon for my liking, Marcy pulls away, sitting up and stretching. "Maybe the others know more?"

I nod. "Their voices were pretty loud."

"Let's try to get to the bottom of things. If you see Harry, do you think you could ask?" She swings her legs off the bed and stands. She walks over to the wall and clicks on the light switch.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and I blink rapidly. The idea of confronting Harry causes my chest to tighten and my stomach clench. "Well, yeah, I guess."

"And I'll see if Mitchell found out anything and shared it, but you are the one Harry seems to be showing an interest in, and..." Marcy finishes her sentence with a shrug. Then she crouches down next to our bags and digs out an outfit.

The unease of the unknown tightens in my chest. "Yeah, good plan. Let's see what today brings."

I sit up, kicking off the covers. In the harsh fluorescent light, the first thing that catches my eyes is how feminine my hands are back to looking.

I hurriedly grab the hologram bracelets from the tabletop and slip them onto my wrists. With a blink, my glimmer slips back into place. Then I grab my new outfit.

As I undress, I am overcome by a new self-consciousness.

Marcy is changing in one corner, and I turn my back to her as I pick up my binder. Yanking the tight lycra down over my shoulders takes a few tries and getting everything right involves a bit of shimmying.

"That looks painful," Marcy says as I slip on an undershirt.

My ears burn. "Harry said it would be temporary."

She says nothing as I shrug into long sleeves and button up the front of my shirt, putting on the small electrode behind my ear that masculinizes my face. But once I'm fully dressed, she steps against me and whispers into my ear, "If it makes the pain more bearable, you look hot."

I smile. "It does."

"Come on," she says, stepping away before I can take advantage of the compliment.

We open the door and make our way down the corridor.

As we approach the common area of the compound, the familiar hum of activity greets us. Down in the atrium, people mill about, some sitting alone with steaming cups of coffee, others engaged in hushed conversations. The normalcy of it all feels jarring.

Descending the escalator, I spot Jenelle and Tyree across the room. My gut clenches, but then Marcy squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. There is no reason to be jealous. No reason to doubt.