Walking Out of Stride

Chapter One

Jackalope Hills, Arizona, was a tiny hole of a town a few miles south of the middle of nowhere and a couple blocks east of who the hell cares. Most of the time nobody even knew the name of the place. It simply got swallowed up by the Phoenix-Metro monolith.

Constantly quiet and sleepy, whether from the heat of the summer or the darkness of the winter, it was the kind of town people did everything they could to escape from. It was the kind of town that only held onto those with family obligations or too little money or few opportunities to start over elsewhere.

It was the kind of town that was much, much too small for someone like Caleb, with dreams of big cities and opportunities and freedom, but at sixteen years old, he was just as stuck as everybody else.

Winter vacation was over. The music had gone back to the top 40s and the Christmas lights and decorations had come down. The once carefully decorated store displays were torn down and scattered across clearance aisles. The fun part of winter was over. Now came the short days and too-cold nights and constant grey, but never with snow, never with rain. In February, the blue skies and warm afternoons would come back. But they'd have to make it through January, first.

The only difference between being a sophomore and a junior was having the option to take semester-length classes rather than only year-round ones. While Modern American History was generally reserved for seniors, it wasn't a hard rule, merely a suggestion, and Caleb's grades -- while not perfect -- were good enough to convince the principal to allow it.

It was his first class of the day, and he was early, as always. Any excuse to get away from his house and his family, even for a few minutes. The teacher wasn't even there yet. Caleb sat outside the door, knees tucked up to his chest, trying to obscure his hoodie enough that nobody would be able to see him tug his binder down a little bit more. Whether each student loved him or hated him, it was no secret at the school that he was transgender, but that didn't mean he wanted to draw any attention to it. If someone was going to pay attention to him, he wanted it to be for the right reasons -- he was nice, he was interesting, he had notes they needed to copy, whatever -- and not because of his gender.

He finished fixing his binder, spread his legs back out, and tugged his hoodie back down over his hips, pulling his mp3 player and headphones out of his backpack. As he hooked his left one in, a big, heavy, boot-covered foot stepped down near his feet and he glanced up. It was Elijah Abrams, his nose stuck in a book like always, stepping over Caleb's outstretched feet.

Caleb tucked his feet in so he wouldn't risk tripping him, or anyone else. He glanced up, trying to be casual, although with the intent with which Elijah was reading, Caleb probably could have broken out into a song and dance number and the older boy wouldn't have noticed.

Elijah was tall, even for a senior. He was built solid and sturdy, like a man rather than a teenager. He looked more like he belonged on a football field than in a library surrounded by fantasy novels, which was what Caleb always saw him reading.

And oh, he was gorgeous. The strong nose and jaw of his profile, his always alert hazel eyes, the way his barely wavy brown hair stuck out a little at the ends. The arms that always seemed to be almost too big for his shirts didn't hurt, either.

Caleb quickly hooked the other earphone in and looked down at his mp3 player. With his tiny hands and soft limbs and round face, his curved waist that the binder could only flatten so much -- no guy would be interested in him, and the only girls that would be would be ones who went for butch girls, which he wasn't. He'd dated a few, in the past, but they'd always been a spectacular failure when eventually it came down to the point that no, I'm not a butch lesbian, I'm a pansexual trans guy. It blew up like a hoard of fireworks left unattended with a pyromaniac. Caleb stopped trying to keep track of the rumors, but more than a good amount were probably started by disgruntled ex-girlfriends.