my name is aaron (ftm)

4

"Hey Arona, got your note."
I gave John a note telling him to meet me in the quad at lunch.
Right in the middle of the quad. The busiest area of the school. Plenty of witnesses.
"Hi John." I say with confidence.
"Hey! Arona, you're talking to me!"
Yeah, I'm talking to you. And I'm about to bust your balls.
"John. Let me tell you something." He leans in, like he's a kid and I'm about to tell him where the cookies are hidden.
"MY NAME. IS. AARON!" I scream as loud as I can. I can hear the whole quad quiet down a little.
"Aaron?"
"It's fucking Aaron, and I've told you that a thousand times, you little bitch." I say loudly.
The quad gets quieter, I feel all eyes on me and John.
"I know, but Aaron? That's a boy's name-"
"I am a boy."
Silence. You could hear a fly sneeze. Something falls somewhere.
"You're a girl, duh." He says like a total retard.
"I. AM. A. BOY." I say, my voice booming around the quad. I hear whispers.
"You're a girl!" He's laughing, like I'm confused.
"I'm a boy. A man. I'm more of a man than you are."
"OH BUURRNN!" I hear from the crowd, a lot of people laugh.
John turns red with embarrassment, then anger.
"You're full of shit, you know that?" He growls. I raise my eyebrows.
"Oh, look who's talking."
He grabs the collar of my sweater and the crowd gasps.
"You think you can embarrass me in front of all these people? No one knows you, Arona, everyone knows me. I'm the fucking king of this school, and you're going down under my power. You're hopeless."
"Fuck you." I grumble. "You're an asshole. You tricked me into thinking I loved you! And then you raped me!"
The crowd gasps again. They all heard that. The truth is out there now. I feel more confident now than before I began this whole scene. Now, if I beat him up, he'll still be in more trouble than I'll be. Nothing beats raping a 7th grade girl if you're looking for trouble.
So I kick him. I kick him square in the balls. He falls to the ground, clutching his crotch, his eyes crossed in pain.
I laugh. I actually laugh out loud, a real maniacal laugh.
Some people in the crowd actually clap.
I smile as I tower over him, he glares up at me, opens his mouth to say something.
But before he can get the words past his mouth, I kick his face. I feel good, full of this power I never knew I had inside me. And then I see red. It's on his hands, on his ripped jeans, pouring out of his nose. I hear a few girls screaming. Someone calls for help. But most people just stand silently and stare, waiting to see what will happen next.
John grabs his nose and looks at me, fire in his eyes. His disgusting blue eyes that I once found gorgeous. I'm not even scared that he's bleeding and looking at me like he wishes he could kill me right now. For once, I'm in charge, and I can finally fight back, and I will never, ever, just stand and do nothing if he touches me again.
I am Aaron. I am powerful.
I see his shoulders shake. Oh, God, I made him cry. Wow!
Then I notice he isn't crying. He's laughing.
"You... You think this makes you a guy?" He asks.
What?
"You're still a girl, dumbass. Whether you beat me up in front of the whole school or not."
I frown angrily. "I didn't do this to you to convince anyone I'm a boy. I did it because you're a fucking asshole." And because I want to get out of this school.
Is that the whole truth, though?
I shake my head.
No. I'm a guy because I'm a guy.
John Crean did not do this to me.
This is who I am.

I don't get called into the office until fourth period.
An office aid walks into my English class with a godforsaken orange slip of paper.
___
Office Pass
Student name: Arona Bidden
Time: 10:52 am
Please attend to the office immediately.
___
I hear a couple of "ooooh, she's in trouble"s and a few whispers, people who saw the fight this morning.
I take the slip and slink out my chair sheepishly. I try to look embarrassed as I walk out the door, but inside, I'm laughing.
"Miss Bidden, please have a seat."
I sit outside the principal's office in a surprisingly comfortable chair. Next to me I see other kids waiting for the principal. Actual bad kids.
Kids who cut class and arrive late and never do their homework and talk back to the teacher.
I almost laugh out loud because I've never been late to a single class, let alone skipped one (except this morning, but I stay on school campus), and I'm one of the best students all of my teachers have since I stay quiet, unlike the other loud annoying kids.
And I'm here sitting with the baddest kids in the school.
A small piece of me feels like I belong.
Maybe I'm not the only trash among the kings after all.
Then I remember that the bad kids are the most popular ones. They're the good kind of trash.
I frown and look at the ground.
"Hey, man."
I lean my head back on the chair and close my eyes.
"Dude. Dude." I feel a nudge.
I open an eye and turn to look at the guy sitting next to me.
"Are you an eighth grader?" He asks.
I blink as I realize he called me "Man" and "Dude". My brain does a happy dance.
"Yeah." I reply in a low monotone voice.
He grins and I see a gap between two of his teeth. I find it oddly pleasing to look at.
"What are you here for?" He asks, talking like we're best friends.
My mind buffers.
Did he not see the fight in the quad?
It looked like the whole school was there.
"I uh... I beat someone up." I reply.
He grins again and I see that tooth gap.
"Nice. But extra points if you made him bleed. Did he bleed?"
God, he looks so eager.
Eager to know if I had made John bleed.
Who is this guy?
"He was pouring." I tell him, trying to make it sound interesting.
His reaction was certainly what I had hoped for. His face lights up and he looks a little... Proud.
"Does blood scare you?" He asks.
I shook my head.
I thought about the blood that so often seeps out of my wrist as I drag a staple across it.
I instinctively tug my sweater sleeve down a bit. The sleeve covers all the way down to my palm. Only my fingers stick out from the massive amount of cloth.
I wear the same insanely baggy sweater everyday. Even when we were in Hawaii.
"What's your name?" I ask tooth gap kid.
He offers me a piece of gum and I take it. As I chew what seems to be watermelon flavored gum, he answers me.
"Drew. But most people call me Screw." He says, "Once, a teacher almost called me Screw on accident. He went 'Screw- Drew'. And then some kids started called me screwdriver."
I nearly snorted.
"Screwdriver." I repeat the stupid nickname.
He frowns. "But you can't call me that." He says sternly.
"Oh. Okay."
"What about you?"
I open my mouth, about to say the usual "Arona" that makes my chest feel tight every time I say it.
Then I pause. This guy doesn't know me, and more importantly, he doesn't know my "real" gender. I see an opportunity, it seems a little risky, but the risk seems so appealing that I'm more than willing to take it.
"Aaron," I say without any hesitation, "my name is Aaron."
He looks satisfied with my answer, and I feel beyond ecstatic.