Theo (Boyxboy)(Trans)

Prologue

July 23, 2004

People always tell us that children and teenagers can't possibly know what they want when the terms sexuality and gender come into play. Yet, at just eighteen years old they pack up our bags and send us off into the world, telling us that we better know what we want to do, because the time has come to start our lives. If at just eighteen years old, I am supposedly capable of knowing what I want to do for a living for the rest of my life, then I think it only makes sense that I should know myself and the inner-workings of my own mind well enough to know who I am and who I love.

I was just six years old the day I told my aunt I didn't like looking girly. She had brought me and my cousin Carter to the beach for my birthday, and my mom had sent me with a one piece bathing suit that had a stupid, little, frilly skirt attached that I absolutely detested. I remember my aunt frowning as I hmph'd at the very sight of it, but more so what she asked me next.

"What do you want to wear, then?"

I looked up at her then, confused by what she was asking me. I never thought that I had another choice. My mother always fought with me about what to wear until I miserably either gave in or she got fed up and took me back home. But, that day, my aunt had given me a choice and I remember blushing as I looked down the beach at Carter and two other boys running around laughing.

"I want to wear shorts like them, Auntie," I mumbled, tiny me being unsure if my words would get me in trouble.

My aunt didn't scold me though, and instead took my hand and led me back to the car. I'm fond of the memory now that I'm older, as I think back to how she let me borrow a pair of Carter's swim trunks, having to tie them tightly so they wouldn't fall from my tinier hips. They were blue and green with a white stripe down the side and I loved them.

Once we returned to the beach--little me wearing the trunks and my t-shirt-- I remember my aunt encouraging me to go play with the boys, but again, I got sad. Carter wouldn't say anything, but those other boys would know I was a girl and worse, a girl wearing boy shorts. Even though I knew I was a girl, the idea of those boys knowing really bothered me.

"Auntie?" I asked quietly.

"What is it, Theresa?" She asked.

I tugged at the shirt, eyes downcast, "Do I have to wear a shirt?"

My aunt looked at me for a long moment and I swear I almost cried, because I thought I'd be in trouble or that it was wrong, because my mom always told me it was indecent for a girl to show off her chest, especially in front of boys. My aunt, though, smiled and helped me take it off before tucking my wispy, barely chin length hair behind my ear..

"Feel better?" she asked with a warm smile.

I nodded, happy to finally be dressed how I wanted to be, "No one will get mad?"

"You're still young, and with your hair this short you can easily pass for a boy. No one will say anything," My auntie promised.

"Is it really okay?"

"Are you happy like that?"

I glance down at my flat, bare chest and then out to the boys dressed just the same, rough housing and running around in the water, "Yeah."

"Then it's okay. This'll be our secret," She told me, holding up her pinky for our traditional pinky swearing.

I hooked my pinky with hers before grinning and running off to play with the boys, and to my delight, they didn't ever find out I was a girl. Looking back, I'm pretty sure that was the happiest day of my life, and probably the last time I ever really felt like me.

-

My aunt moved away the following spring, only really coming around for holidays, and even then there was never time for her to take me out, away from my mom. I was saddened, but here and there she'd slip me articles of clothing that weren't by any means for a girl for me to add to my secret stash. I didn't understand why I wanted it so much, or why it was such a big deal for me to even have it, but something inside me always just kind of looked at boy clothes, and boy toys, and boys in general, and there was a link, a connection; a yearning. I didn't understand it, but it made me happy, so I didn't stop and my aunt didn't stop me either.

While my aunt hasn't been able to make her annual visits the last couple years, I specifically remember a conversation we had the last time I saw her that changed my life. I was just fourteen years old, about to enter highschool and my aunt had come for the weekend of my birthday. My mother had made a big deal about everyone spending time together on my birthday, so she couldn't take me out, but she'd snuck into my room her last night there and we just sat up on my bed chatting for hours.

"Auntie... I don't think my mom likes me," I had mumbled, sadness washing over me.

She turned to face me, looking shocked by my statement, "What would make you think such a thing?"

I glanced down at my sweatpants and baggy t-shirt and the scrapes on my hands from when I climbed the tree with Carter earlier that day, "Because, I'm not like other girls. I don't act or dress girly unless I have to, I don't share any of the same interests, and she always seems annoyed with me. I think... sometimes she wishes someone else was her daughter."

Tears spilled down my cheeks after my confession and I specifically remember my aunt pulling me into a tight embrace, rocking me back and forth to comfort me, "It's not that she dislikes you, little bird. She just doesn't understand you. You're... different. People don't always know how to handle different."

"I don't want to be different, but I can't help it, Auntie," I sniffle, burying my face in her shoulder.

Her arms tightened as she said the words that I'd carry with me every day after when things got a little too heavy for me to handle, "Being different isn't a bad thing, Theresa. I think people who act negatively towards those who are different just... envy them. It takes a lot of courage to admit you're different, and even more to embrace what makes you different. Not everyone has that kind of strength. In all honesty, being different is to be truly beautiful, my little bird, it makes you unique. No matter how you wish to express yourself, I will always think you're beautiful, because you are unique and that's a very rare thing to be these days."

I smiled at her words, but my heart was still heavy, If only everyone could think like you do, Auntie. Maybe then I'd have the strength to really be this person you believe me to be.

(A/N)

So, this is the first book in a series I am starting called "The Identity Series" where I will be writing about characters with identities that I feel don't get enough recognition. If it wasn't already made clear, this story is about a Trans boy and his struggles to come to terms with who he is and the frightening journey of coming out to the world.

Quick note- The beach scene is actually a true story of a family member of mine and that person is actually the one who inspired me to write this book in the first place. So, yeah. I know it's a bit odd, but I mentioned before that this is going to be slightly unconventional and I'm going to do my best to represent these characters and their identities.

anyway, hope you enjoy and I'm not going to be writing an Author's for every chapter, just now and then to talk with you guys about some things :) Love you all! Hope you enjoyed!

~Shay<3