The Things About A Trans Teen

Meeting The Neighbors

    My phone hit the wall with the loudest thud I've ever heard. I screamed into my pillow, why would she say something like that? Doesn't she know why I left? I sighed and decided to change my clothes. It was nearly five in the afternoon and I smelt of bus sweat from journey here. I took my top off and chucked it across the room as I digged at my luggage. A black shirt with gray stripes and black skinny jeans. I applied some black eyeliner and mascara to mach the outfit and to make me look more feminine then my long hair, cover up, blush, and nails already did (nothing less than the best). I slipped in my shoes and made my way to the tenth floor, knocking on doors 10-C.

    An older man, most likely his fifties, answered the door. His stance made it seem like he had a bad leg, his hair was buzzed short and black, and his smile was welcoming. Behind him a messy, larger looking, apartment was cluttered with books, boxes, papers, magazines, and god knows what else. I realized then there was on four doors in the hallway, two on each side, meaning the rooms must have been bigger than the others in the building.

    "Mr. Hilly?" He looked happier than anyone I've ever met. Probably didn't get a lot of visitors. "I'm Jacob's," I paused in question. "Daughter, I'm Jacob's daughter. Jacob Jennings. My name is Michelle Jennings," the nickname was given to me by the school bullies, but I've always liked it.

    "Ah, Jacob's kid. Yeah he's talked about you, come in come in; I'm always happy for company," he motioned me inside as he turned and limped away, affirming my suspicions about his bad leg. "I'm the landlord, as you know, and there are rules in this building. First, the rooms are yours, do as you please, but if anything illegal is happening you will go to jail. Second, no hating or bother the other renters, or you will be kicked out. Am I clear?"

    I nodded, "yes sir." his apartment was massive compared to ours, but seemed so much smaller because of the clutter. Medals on the wall shined in the light, but the most interesting piece among the medals was a photo in the center of them all with a plaque underneath. Hubert J. Hilly. World War Two, fighter pilot in the Pacific War. The man in the photo was smiling, a smile that matched Mr. Hilly. Mr. Hilly was to young to be in WW2, but an accident or injury would explain his limp. "Are you a veteran, sir?" I spoke up after such a long state of quiet.

    "As was my father, and his father before him, and so on. As cliche as it may sound in story books, I served over in Iraq and took a piece of shrapnel to the leg. It ended my military service; my wife passed a few years later from Lung cancer. Don't ever smoke," he pointed at me and laughed as he sat in a recliner and lit a cigar from a box on the stand next to it. "The life insurance allowed me to own this building, I converted it for nothing into what it is, and I'm proud of it."

    He puffed on his cigar, "well sir, it was a pleasure meeting you, but I got other neighbors to meet and stuff to pick up too," I smiled and he nodded as I made my way out. Next, the grocery store. It wasn't so much a grocery store than a general store. Located across the street directly frow our building, it was a three story building. The bottom was for the store, the second for living, and the third was for storage. I walked in and admired the very, very clean store. A girl, my age, ran around the store making sure everything was tidy and neat.

    "Hello! You must be Jacob's kid," the women behind the checkout smiled at me. "Ignore Sarah, she has OCD and everything must be perfect. I'm Bethany, but you can call me Mrs. Beth. That's Sarah, and my son Jackson is in the back. Jackson, get down here and say hello to Jacob's kid!"

    Jackson came down from a set of stairs behind the checkout, and Sarah finally realized I was there and stopped cleaning. They were obviously brother and sister, both with dark tanned skin and black hair. Jackson's hair was a short and messy, but spiked up slightly. His eyes were hazel, but slightly more green, and they went well with the rest of his fine cut face. His jawline wasn't completely noticable, but just enough so to be hot. His nose was small and his lips watched them, in a cute way. Sarah's hair was up in a neat ponytail, and her eyes were slightly greener than her brother's. Her nose and lips were also bigger, most likely a trait from her father. Mrs. Beth had Autumn Red hair, hazel eyes, and a boyish cut hair with a scar on the side of her head.

    "It's a pleasure to meet you all," I smiled at them and shook their hands. Jackson's grip was tough and gentle all at once; like a child hugging their teddy bear just hard enough to call it squeezing but soft enough to not call it strangling. Sarah resorted to an elbow shake, saying I would have to wash my hands first. Respectable. "Do you sell hair products?"

    Mrs. Beth nodded, "Sarah show her." She led me to the row farthest from the register. A whole isle was dedicated to female product, and housed everything from makeup to hair product and shampoo. I grabbed what I needed, some hairspray and conditioner, and went to the register that Jackson now manned.

    He smiled at me, "that'll be ten ninety five." I handed him my money and he gave me change and my receipt. "My mother wanted me to walk you home. Do you mind?" He smiled and I couldn't say no.

    "Not at all," I held out my arm and he took it without hesitation. He yelled back at Sarah that she needs to man the counter. When we we're out if the store I asked about her. "How bad is her OCD?"

    "After she started taking online classes, not bad. She's in college already and she's younger then me," he stuck his free hand in his pocket half way. "She's only sixteen and a freshmen, I'm seventeen and a sophomore." She was my age, and he was only a year older. He had cigarettes in his pocket.

    "You smoke?" I asked him almost instantly upon knowing and he nodded. "Isn't it bad for you? You can get, like, lung cancer or something else bad."

    He laughed loudly as we crossed the street, "I guess that's a risk I have to take, and why so worried? Does someone already care about me that much?" My cheek flushed with red and I hit him in the shoulder.

    "Shut up or I'll send you home, and I'm sure your mom won't be pleased to see you return so early," I smiled as I threatened him.

    "You never told me your name, or should I call you Mrs. Jacob's kid?" We entered my building and made our way to the elevator.

    I smiled and pressed the button, he thought I was a girl too, "Michelle, my name's Michelle." He smiled and chuckled. "What?"

    "I really like that name. Michelle Jennings. It fits your. A pretty name for a pretty girl." He smiled at me in the elevator.

    I felt my face get hotter, and wondered if the red was visible through my makeup, "thank you," I responded shyly as I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously.

    He led me to my apartment and grinned, "so do I get to come in and get coffee or?"

    I shoved him back lightly, "men, all pigs I swear." That made him laugh again. I hugged him, "thank you for the walk home, if I need one again I'll ring the store."

    He smiled and bowed as I walked into my apartment, "and I'll gladly accept Mrs. Michelle Jennings. Have a good evening madam." And with that the door clicked close and I was alone.
    I went and flopped down on my bed. My first day and I already met two extremely cute men, I smiled as i thought to myself. That thought alone wiped any doubt from my mind about coming up here being a bad idea. But now the bigger idea loomed over my mind, was this transgender thing me?