The Things About A Trans Teen

Room And A Half.

I awoke alone, leaning against my luggage. Placed in between my elbow and luggage was a small note card, on it words from my secret pillow; I never did learn his name.

I had an amazing time working as a pillow. Your hair is soft, what kind of conditioner do you use? Hopefully I'll see you in Akron sometime. Hope everything goes well with your father. ~ ZAP

Zap? His initials do not spell zap. I looked around, we we're still an hour or so away from my stop and I wanted to do nothing more than meet Dreamy Boy again. It wasn't exactly creepy; I mean he could of drugged me and kidnapped me, but he didn't. That's something right?

The last leg of the journey flew past. I abided my time by day dreaming about Dreamy Boy and responding to the constant flow of text from my sister. I told her about the strange boy, to which she replied with omg you have a crush. After that I ignored her until I reached my stop. Dad was waiting for me, and helped me with my bags. We each took two, he told me his apartment was close enough yo walk. He wore a brown leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, blue jeans, and shiny black loafers. But to top it all off he showed off slick backed hair and Hollywood aviator sunglasses. Oh great, I thought, my dad's a greaser.

His apartment was on the sixth floor of a medium sized building that was located in a well-off neighborhood. Inside the apartment was smaller than expected. The kitchen was the smallest, but outfitted with new appliances and counter tops. Most of the furniture was definitely Ikea, and showed off an amazing display of greens, blues, and browns. The dining room connected to the kitchen, which was divided from the living room by a bar. Above the bar was an alcohol shelf stocked with an assortment of wines, champagnes, and other fancy alcohols. Thanks living room had a medium sized flat screen, and a matching couch-chair-coffee table set. Now that I noticed, every room had it's own set; the kitchen was black-gray-silver, the dining set was wood and green plastic, and the living room was a combination of blue-green-and wood.

We set the bags near the door and removed our shoes. He breathed in deep then looked at me. "Bathroom's on the left, first door, the second door is yours, and the third is mine. I ordered your furniture, I figured you'd like purple, dark blue, and black?" I nodded and he smiled. "Good, for now you're using a fold out from a buddy upstairs. It'll all be here next week. Now we need to talk, sit," he motioned to the couch.

He took the chair as I sat on the couch. Not soft, not firm, but in-between enough to be comfortable. I got nervous and my hands began to sweat, "am I in trouble already?"

He laughed and smiled, "no nothing like that, but your mother explain the situation to me over the phone while you travelled. Have you began transitioning with meds or?"

"Transition? With what?" His question puzzled me, I knew I liked guys but was I suppose to take meds for that?

"Wait, you're not transgender?" His face held just as much shock as mine must of. Yeah, I've heard of what being Transgender is, but down south that was considered taboo; being gay was bad enough down there.

"No, well I never gave it much thought. I do like wearing makeup and girls clothes," I trailed off into thought. Was I Transgender? Boys clothes and activities always made me feel out of place and weird. I settled on doing more research into it later that night when I unpacked.

Dad's watch began to beep, witch cause him to hurriedly get up and head to the door. "I have a play to do in thirty minutes, so I'm going to leave you here to settle in. Visit the store across the road, Mrs. Beth is really nice. She has a son and daughter," he winked at me as he slipped on his shoes. "Mr. Hilly lives in apart 10-C. He's the land lord, go meet him too, he might have some work for you, bye live you!" And with that he was out the door.

"Oh great," I said out loud as I slouched against the couch. "Neighbors." I didn't unpack my bags, knowing I'd have new furniture in a week just made it feel like a waste of time. The foldable bed was small when compared to the larger, freshly painted, hazel room. I did did through my luggage to find my penguin wax burner, I hated the smell of paint. I plugged it in and set it on the nightstand, pineapple colada. The bathroom was also nice and need, but very cliche. White tiles, black and white checker walls, a bath/shower whiter and shinier than any I've ever seen, and a sink and toilet to match.

After freshening up, I returned to my room and opened my laptop. I proceeded to Google the word Transgender. Adjective; relating to a person who's sense of personal identity or gender doesn't correspond to their birth sex. I thought about it for a few minutes. Maybe Dad was onto something. My phone went off, text message number 37, from my sister. I told her my thoughts and her delayed response was enough to make me guess what she texted back.

Would Mother like that?