the other boys ⇨ jarchie

18

jughead.

i stare at myself in the narrow mirror in my bedroom at the trailer. today is the day. march 1st, 2019. today is the day everything in my life will be complete. i look down at my outfit for the day a red woolly jumper and black fitted trousers, and red converse to match. i've took my meds, ready for the events ahead of me.

i hear a soft knock at the door. "hey jug."

"hi dad."

"you ready?"

"yeah."

i follow him out of the trailer, practically running to our old, faulty car. he attempts to put his serpent jacket on from the backseat, but i grab his arm.

"please dad, no jacket. you look fine," i insist, gazing down at his outfit: he looks normal for once. he has on beige trousers, white trainers, a white vest, and a blue checkered shirt. i never thought i'd say this, but FP jones looks hip.

butterflies fly around my stomach, and my brain feels like it's on acid. my hands shake and my dad's voice feels muffled as we drive.

"if they ask... tell the truth... how much this means to you..." his words slip in and out of my ears. his fingers snap in front of my face, snapping me out of my trance. "jughead!"

"what? y-yes? i'm sorry," i stagger, clearing my throat.

during the car journey that follows, i spend an hour listening to music, '1950' by king princess playing in my ears. i occasionally read the perks of being a wallflower - it's been my favorite book ever since i was 7 years old. as we leave rockland county, i gaze out the window onto the fields and distant woodland, birds fleeting last every so often, their feathers ruffled by wind. we approach suburbs, and eventually the outside of new york. i stare up at the huge hospital that we drive into: my heart races with both excitement and nervousness. once my dad finds somewhere to park near the entrance, i take a deep breath and get out of the car, following him into the colossal building. we both stride in with pep in our step. for the first time in years, he gives me a genuine smile and then speaks to the woman at the front desk.

"we have an appointment for a sex reassignment surgery," FP starts confidently, clearly intimidating the nurse.

"is that a phalloplasty or a vaginoplasty?" she answers quietly.

FP turns around to look at me, confusion written all over his face. "metoidioplasty," i whisper.

"metoidioplasty," FP repeats, his bulky arms resting on the front desk.

"ah, okay," the nurse says, "who is your appointment with, and what time is it for?"

"dr nickson at 9:30," i reply, ignoring my dad flinch. i know he doesn't like to be answered for.

he glances up at the clock. 9:28am. he nudges my shoulder. "okay, thank you for your help." he nods to the nurse and we take a seat in the waiting room.

"i can't believe you just did that..." i whisper to him.

he looks at me with his big dark eyes. "did what?"

"treated someone with respect."

FP smirks. "yep, i've sorted out my attitude, kid."