binded

zane ; the new kid

I am awoken on Monday morning to the sound of a blaring alarm. The constant ringing is enough to make me slap my hand on the 'snooze' button and groan. The instant that I realize my groan sounds deeper, a smile spreads across my lips. Despite being prescribed testosterone injections just six weeks ago, the change in my voice is something that makes me more than happy. However, sitting up and seeing the sports bra cling to my chest eliminates the sense of bliss I possessed mere seconds ago.

That's the thing with dysphoria, it hits like a truck and abolishes any feeling that isn't hopelessness or outrage. I push the thoughts out of my head and I get out of bed, looking around my unpacked room for any trace of one of my few chest binders. When I find one, I make the transition between sports bra to binder as short-lived as I possibly can. The satisfaction of seeing a flat chest relieves me and I stare at myself in the mirror. My voice has taken a considerable amount of the difference throughout my transition and that is enough for me to pass at my new school.

The only positive about moving from Chicago to Los Angeles is the fact that I get a clean slate at life. Nobody knows that I'm transgender and I can peacefully pass by my new name, Zane. Even though it has taken some adapting from my mother, step father and brother, it means a lot when they introduce me as their son.

"Trini-Zane." my 8 year old brother, Bradon, calls out while pounding on the door, "Zane...how long until you're ready?"

"I just woke up." I shout out, the difference more obvious than it was with a simple groan, "I'm sure that it won't be too long."

Bradon pauses for a while, "I don't mean to call you by your old name...I'm sorry."

I open up my bedroom door to see him standing with his jet black hair slicked back, clearly by our mom.

"You're fine, I know it's not on purpose."

He flashes a bright smile, his two front teeth absent.

"Thanks Zane." He wraps his arms around my legs tightly before running down the stairs.

Once I throw on a pair of black, torn up jeans and a hoodie, I brush my teeth and make

sure that my short hair is decent enough for my first day of school. I grab a pair of shoes from my closet, feeling an uncomfortable feeling in the center of my chest, right between my ribs. As if an unimaginable amount of pressure and weight has been delivered upon me. I almost feel sick, like I could vomit.

Thankfully, I don't and I dart down the stairs to receive a ride to school from either my mom or step-dad. I grab my backpack and head towards the door that leads into the garage to find my mom in the doorway with her eyes gleaming.

"Before you go out there...we have a little present." she says as she grins and turns to her fiancé who is savoring his coffee, "Since we didn't get you anything when you turned seventeen and you've been taking the move so well."

My mom opens up the door and my bright blue eyes open wide. In the garage is a 2015 Ford Mustang that is as dark as ebony. In my shock, Bradon hands me a lanyard with the car keys attached to it. I sprint towards my car, thinking through my head how I own it. My car!

"I love it!" I squeal, looking in the windows to see the leather seats and that it is completely brand new, "Thank you so much!"

"There is obviously a curfew; you have to be home by 11." my step dad comments as I proceed to stare at the vehicle in fascination, "and you have to take Bradon to school and pick him up."

"I don't care about a curfew!" I grin, running back to hug them, "I'll see you guys after school, thank you!"

After I drop Bradon off at school, I continue to drive to my school. Part of me realizes that since I can become a completely different person, I might as well switch up my personality a bit. That is why once my car is parked in the lower student parking lot, I get out of my car and keep a solid expression while walking onto campus.