Me & Her

Me

The next day, at break, Noah and Emma direct me to the computer suite.

Emma is gushing about some party at the weekend, repeatedly inviting me in the hope I'll crack and say yes. I can't say yes. Even if I want to. Even if my whole body is screaming for me to tear myself from Alyssa's scheme and join the rest of the world. Except I cannot – I will not – abandon her. She wouldn't abandon me; she hasn't for all these years.

When I thought the worst of her, she was only trying to protect me.

She's only ever done what she thought was right.

Emma politely guides me through the ocean of lower graders, their stares more unnerving than Mr. Dark's ever were. Unconsciously, I shake my head. I have to stop calling him that. Noah remains by my side, casting me smiles, odd glances. This morning, he told me he wanted to talk to me at lunch, as soon as I finished third period. I'd asked Alyssa before agreeing. I'd asked Alyssa quite a lot lately. And, I realised as we reached an island of computers, it felt good. It felt strangely wonderful to have a consultant inside my head, one who knew me more than I could ever know myself. Emma scrambled for a trio of computers, practically lying on the desk. The librarian in charge of the suite shoots her a crumpled frown, but she grins back. Eventually, the librarian walks on. Noah slumps to my left, talking about his sister.

"The principle gave her a personal detention for it. Said she couldn't know at her age. She's been going on at our Mums about it since she was four," he is saying. Both Alyssa and I lean into the conversation.

"Then she knows who she wants to be – the school should accept that," Emma whispers. I nod. Noah's sister is eleven years old, as bold and bright as her brother. But she doesn't want to be his sister. She hasn't wanted to for seven years. She wants to be his brother and she knows, deep down in her heart, that she is. That she should be. From someone who knows how it feels to be trapped within your own mind, I can't imagine being trapped in your own body.

"We should mount a protest or get people to sign a petition," I find myself saying. Noah reels, while Emma smiles her approval.

"That's a great idea. We can make signs, maybe march outside the school". Noah bites his lip.

"I don't know. The parents, even the kids at that place, they're not... They don't understand". They wouldn't be human if they didn't understand. But if they aren't willing to... I shake my head.

"So? Make them understand. Your Mums don't need their acceptance and neither does your sister". Again, I catch Emma's smile. Her eyes – the twinkling in them – make me want to smile too. So, I do. This time, Alyssa can't stop herself either. Noah offers me a weaker version, but his thumbs begin to swivel.

"It'll be okay. They'll understand eventually and if not, there are plenty of other schools and communities that do," says Emma. We turn to face our screens; the bright white login page scorches my eyes. The tap-tapping of keyboards cause a buzzing in my head, as if a muffled alarm has been caught inside my brain stem. I blink, try to force my breathing into a steady rhythm. Up. Down. Up.

Emma is staring at me, so I smile and return my attention to the computer screen. I have a job to do. A mission, as Alyssa calls it. It's strange, but what we're doing doesn't seem to big now. It doesn't seem as monumental as it did before. The fact that there are at least two bodies in that van and a dead Doctor lying out somewhere in the wilderness just doesn't unnerve me the way it should have done. Perhaps it's the presence of those new memories. I say new, they're actually quite old. New to me, I suppose. Those harsh straps, syringes torn right out of a horror movie. My mouth dries up, while my hands start to shake. Breathe. I have to breathe. Be like a shark. If they stop moving, they die.