my name is aaron (ftm)

9

I'm tired of molasses.
The days are going by slowly.
So slowly.
It makes me want to gouge out my eyes.

I glance at the clock, willing those small hands to turn faster. If anything, they seem to turn slower than before. I want to groan out loud in boredom, but in the middle of a classroom, all I would gain is unwanted attention. Although, I kind of doubt anyone would hear me amongst all the shouting that's going on. I look around at the chaos that surrounds me. Two boys are arm wrestling on a desk while about fifteen other guys cheer them on. I can't tell who they're rooting for. Probably both. Meanwhile, a group of girls are sitting on their desks in a circle, while giggling and laughing way too hard at something that probably isn't that funny. They also annoyingly say the f-work about a million times per second, except they don't say the actual word. They say "frunk", which is about the dumbest thing I have yet to witness in my thriteen years on this Earth. And I can tell you, I've seen and heard a lot of dumb shit. A lot.
I try to ignore the constant "What the frunk, Stacy?" "Oh my frunking gawdddd!" "Frunk off, that is the best frunking frunker I've ever frunking seen!!!!" and the hollering from the boys, who are now all rhythmically pounding on the the desks and making the floor shake. The girls squeal out some "Oh em frunk!"s and I want to stab everyone in sight.
These are the stereotypical genders, right?
Girly girls and rowdy boys.
I feel like I don't relate with either one. Obviously, I know I'm a boy, but I don't act like most boys at my school at all. I don't act like the popular boys who cuss and hit on girls, or the sporty boys who wear nothing but Nike and Adidas, or the nerdy boys who play Pokemon everyday at brunch, and those are really the only kind of boys that exist at my school. I'm none of them. I don't belong here.
I used to feel like I belonged. Back in sixth grade, with the people I had called my friends. I still didn't completely fit in with them, though. Of course I didn't. They had talked behind my back. I was different.
John had used a different word.
Special.
The thought of him makes me want to vomit and I chase away the thought by focusing my attention on the clock once again. Just thirteen more minutes. Come on. Move a little faster.
I think back to the few types of guys I had just named.
I wonder which one Screw is.
"Hey Aroooona!"
I fight back the "It's Aaron" that's trying desperately to fight it's way out of my mouth.
Stay silent.
Don't even turn.
"Arooooonaaaa!"
What do they want?
It's one of the stupid frunk girls.
"Oh my frunking God, can someone call her deaf ass over here?!"
I bite the insides of my mouth and try not to scream.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. I glance at it. Fake nails.
Ew.
Turn slowly. Fake smile.
"Yeah?"
The girl stands with a hand on her hip, along with a few other girls.
"Heyyyy Arona, we just had a quick question here, cuz we're all just talking and we were just wondering something, ya know?" She asks, talking and moving those lips that have much more lip gloss on them than any human being should ever wear so fast that I almost don't understand what she's saying.
"Question?" I ask.
What could they possibly want to ask me?
Something about John?
God, I fucking hope not.
She nods quickly and exchanges a glance with one of the girls next to her. I notice that more girls have moved near us. I feel uncomfortable. Like I'm surrounded by the white girl cult, about to be sacrificed to the Starbucks God of Death.
"Yeahhhhh, a question." She says.
Why the hell does she feel the need to drag out every fucking vowel when she speaks?
That's MY question.
"Well, go ahead." I say.
I steal another look at the clock. Nine minutes. Please get me out of here.
"So, Arona," Leader of the white girl cult says, "Why do you dress like that?"
There's a silence amongst me and the girls.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
She grins and twirls her hair.
"Well, yeah, Y'know... Like that." She gestures vaguely to my outfit, which is what I wear everyday. Baggy sweater and jeans.
"She means you look like a dyke." Another girl says, causing a bunch of them to erupt in giggles.
"A what?" I ask.
"Oh my frunk, she doesn't know what a dyke is!" Another girl squeals.
More giggles and "oh my frunk"s.
I want to vomit.
I stay silent until they decide to speak again.
"So what?" Their supposed 'leader' asks me, "Are you a fag, or somethin?"
I grit my teeth together in anger.
"Plus, what's with the hair?" Another girl pipes up. She takes a strand of my hair between her forefinger and thumb. I want to cut her hand off.
"You a boy or something, Arona?" One of them asks.
YES. YES I AM.
AND IT'S AARON, YOU DUMBASS.
They all laugh loudly. Like hyenas.
"She can't be a BOY, you frunking idiot! She doesn't even have a DICK."
It's getting harder to hold back my screams and tears.
Why are they doing this to me?
What did I do to deserve this?
"Oh my god, that's so funny! Isn't that funny, Arona?"
I look at her, expressionless.
Fuck off.
Five minutes.
Please.
Please.
"So funny to think-"
Please.
"-that you could ever-"
Please.
"-be-"
Please.
"-a-"
Don't.
"-boy."

I wake up in the nurse's office.
What?
What am I doing here?
I immediately push myself up to a sitting position.
The nurse glances at me.
"Ah, looks like someone is awake." She says.
My eyes are wide.
Did I... Faint?
All I remember is those girls all surrounding me, and laughing at me, and it was really hard to breathe.
Hard to breathe.
My hand flies to my chest.
The bandages are gone.
"Oh yes," The nurse says, walking over to me, "There were some bandages around your chest that were constricting your breathing, so I removed them. You didn't have any recorded injuries that required them so I figured it would be okay."
She pulls up a chair next to the cot I'm on and sits down. She looks me in the eyes sternly.
All I can do is look back.
"Why did you have those bandages, Arona?"
I open my mouth and I almost correct her when she says my name.
I close my mouth and shrug.
She sighs. "Listen, all I want to do right now is to help you. If those bandages were there, they were there for a reason."
I'm silent as a I think.
Is this really going to be the first person I come out to?
If I even decide to say anything. I could just stay quiet like I always do. That would be easy. Easy to just stay quiet and allow everyone to continue calling me what I'm not.
"First of all," I tell her, staring at my knees, "It's Aaron."
She tilts her head, her eyes still on mine.
"Not Arona." I say.
She nods.
"Alright, Aaron."
I pull my sweater sleeve down instinctively. I take deep breaths.
"The bandages were there because..." I continue, "I'm not a girl. I'm a boy and I wanted a flatter chest..."
It feels weird. Saying out loud what had only ever been purely thoughts inside my head.
But it feels good to tell someone.
"Does anyone else know about this?" The nurse asks.
I shake my head.
"Well, Aaron, it seems that the best option right now would be to get you a binder. It would help you achieve your goal of conveying a more 'boy-ish' appearance and it's also much safer than bandages or using tape. However, if your parents don't know about your... Condition, I doubt they would be very open to the idea of you purchasing one."
I can only imagine.
"I don't think they would. And I'm not really ready to tell them yet." I confess.
I hadn't even ever thought about it. I always thought that I would be forced to stay hidden in this stupid girl body forever.
The thought of actually being treated and accepted as a boy sends my heart pacing. I wonder if that might ever happen.
"Well, there's not much I can do for you, Aaron." The nurse says sadly, "I can only advise you not to try and bind with anything that might not be safe. Like bandages."
I frown and continue to stare at my knees.
"Also," The nurse continues, she stands up and retrieves something from her desk before returning to me. She hands it to me. It's a paper with a bunch of websites and phone numbers on it. "I can give you this list of several different trans and LGBTQ online support groups and lifelines. You can talk with other transgenders going through what you're going through and exchange advice and such."
Other transgenders?
"You mean... There's other people like me?" I ask.
She nods at me. "Yeah, Aaron. You're not alone in this. Don't ever think you are."
She points at the paper. "There are tons of people just like you. Find them. They can help you, and you'll probably help them too."
Wow.
I mean...
I always thought there might be someone who understood what I felt, but I never knew there were this many people actually going through it.
This whole... Transgender thing. I never really knew there was an exact term for it, either.
Wow.
The nurse hands me something else. A roll of bandages.
"These are yours. But don't use them again unless you're actually hurt." She warns me.
I nod and thank her before getting up from the cot. She gives me a parting smile and I push the door open to leave.
I wander aimlessly down the empty hallways, since everyone else has already left school. I walk around and then out to the field behind the school. I lie in the grass and it tickles my cheeks as I stare up at the sky. Clouds pass over me and I forget about those stupid girls and I forget about John and I forget about the pain I had been carrying around all day. I watch that pain fly out of me and rise up into the sky above me and dissipate until it is nothing but air.
I know it will come back, and when it does it will come hurtling right at me and it'll hit me like a bus and latch onto me like a leech.

But right now I don't care.