Blinders

Chapter One: Chicago Is So Two Years Ago

Mikey's P.O.V.

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"Smile, Michelle! I'm still proud of you!"

My mom's words echoed in my brain as I took my seat in my new homeroom. I'd retorted, "Mom, call me Mikey!" and she'd sighed and shook her head. The same way she'd shook her head when I bought my first tie, and when I wore a suit instead of a dress to my cousin's wedding, and when I tried out for hockey instead of volleyball.

I didn't make the team.

I never understood what was so hard to grasp about the Michelle/Mikey thing. I just preferred "Mikey" to "Michelle" most of the time. I usually wore boys' clothes instead of girls'. My hair was short, I didn't really wear makeup, what was the big deal-

"Hey! New kid!" the kid next to me hissed, jolting me out of my own mind. "Are you Michelle West?"

"Huh, oh, uh, yeah."

The teacher at the front of the classroom grunted and checked something off. I added hastily, "Can you call me Mikey?"

He grunted and nodded. I sighed with relief and slumped back over in my chair. 

"Mikey?" the girl behind me asked. "But Michelle is a girl's name."

"Who cares what they want to be called?" the girl next to her snapped. "None of your business." She tossed her books into the empty seat next to me. "Hey, I'm Cass. I get the same weird looks as you do, I'd bet. You new here?"

I nodded. "My family moved here from Chicago a while ago, but I went to a Christian academy until I got kicked out. I asked them to call me Mikey instead of Michelle."

"I feel your pain, man. I got kicked out of my church group for yelling 'bullshit' when the pastor said homosexuality is a sin. So, uh, let's get the obvious question out of the way so I don't screw up. Do you want me to refer to you as a boy or a girl?"

"Either, really. Doesn't really matter to me. The easiest to remember is just 'they'."

"All right. So tell me about yourself, Mikey. What do you like to do?"

I shrugged. "I play a horrible saxaphone. And piano. Honestly, I don't get out much. My parents are really religious."

"Your parents should meet Aunt Joan and Uncle Alan. Off-the-wall religious. My dad doesn't go to church ever since the incident with the youth group pastor. It seems my family's developed quite the reputation." She grinned.

"I go to church three times a week," I said. "Something about 'praying away the devil inside'.  It's torture."

"I understand com-plete-ly."

"Well, Mikey and Cassandra," the teacher said, "if you two could stop talking, I'd like to start class."

"Sorry, Vernon," she said, chomping on a wad of gum.

"Pl-ease don't call me by my first name."

"Sorry, Mr. Youenny."

"And spit out your gum."

She rolled her eyes until I was certain they'd disappear back into her skull. "Ye-e-es, Mr. Youenny." She stood up and stomped across the classroom.

I giggled.

"Wha'chu laughing about, punk?" she asked. I grinned. "That's what I thought. Punk."

I leaned back in my seat and started doodling on the back of my hand. "Thank you very much."

"You are very welcome, Mikey." She grabbed my binder and started leafing through it until she found my schedule. "We have, like, three classes together today."