The Wrong Body [Frerard AU]

Chapter Eleven

The second showed a boy with springy hair. He was holding a thumbs-up to the camera. Ray after transitioning.

Lindsey stared at the second picture. That fro was sick as frick. But that was beside the point.

At the end of the article, it seemed as if there was a note from Ray. If you want to contact me, it read, my phone number and address are down below!

Lindsey scanned the address. He lived in California. Goddamnit. She felt like Frankie would love to meet Ray and talk to him.

She printed out the article and carefully slid it into her backpack. Maybe she could call Ray. She might even convince him to spend time in New Jersey.

She leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing at her lips.

---

Frankie stood in front of her mirror, examining her body. Usually whenever she did this, she would shame herself; she would pick out all her flaws and insecurities. But sometimes, she would find something good about her figure. Today was one of those days.

Feeling relatively confident, she unclasped her bra so she was standing bare-chested. Were her breasts shrinking, or was it her imagination?

She ran her hands up and down her body, pausing to stare at her curves. She crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes started to well up with tears.

Boys shouldn't have curves. Boys shouldn't have breasts. But he did, and that killed her. Even though she was taking hormones, it was only the pills. The pills weren't good enough. She'd seen some thicker hair on her arms, but that was about it. What she really wanted was to inject the testosterone into her body, but she couldn't do that behind her mother's back.

She tugged on a sports bra and a plain black t-shirt before heading downstairs. Her mom was waiting for her in the kitchen.

"Here you are," she said, pushing a steaming cup of coffee to Frankie. "I'm making waffles for you as well."

Frankie raised her eyebrows. Coffee? Waffles? Her mother wanted something.

She decided to play it safe, at least for a while. She sniffed the coffee. "This isn't poisoned, is it?"

Her mom let out a high, false laugh. It made Frankie's toes curl. "Of course it isn't. I was just feeling generous today."

Generous. Yeah, right.

Frankie took a sip of the hot liquid as her mom placed a plate of waffles in front of her. They were cooked perfectly, not a single burn on its surface. She bit her lip. She didn't trust this woman one bit.

Her mother noticed her change in posture. "What is it?"

"You want something." It wasn't a question.

Her mother laughed again, the same fake laugh as before. "You got me. I want to know all about you and your boyfriend."

Frankie felt her cheeks heat up. "I don't have a boyfriend," she mumbled.

"Well, then what's happening with you and that boy. Gerard." She waved a hand impatiently. "You two are still going out, correct?"

"It, um, well... we stopped," Frankie confessed, careful to avoid eye contact. "It just wasn't working out."

Her mom's face fell. "You're going to try again, right?" There was a glimmer of hope in her voice.

Frankie sighed. "I don't know. Maybe."

Her mom's tone darkened. "Isn't there a dance at your school?"

Frankie nearly dropped her coffee. "How did you know?"

"There were a group of girls talking when I went shopping the other day," she explained. "I heard the name of your school and found out about the dance. So I bought you..." she bent down. "This."

She straightened up, holding a red dress. Frankie gaped at it. Her mother smiled. "You like it, don't you?"

Wait, what?

Frankie absolutely despised the dress. For one thing, it was strapless. And she hated revealing her shoulders.

The second flaw in the dress was its length. Just by looking at it, she could tell it would just go past her butt.

The worst part was the fact that her mother bought this. The dress basically screamed "sex." Frankie nearly gagged. She turned away from the dress.

"I want you to try it on, okay?" Her mother said, setting the item of clothing next to her daughter.

Frank whipped around. "Mom, do you want me to get laid?" She shouted. "That dress is disgusting. You know why girls wear that? So people can see their exposed skin. They want to be t-touched..."

Her breathing was starting to get heavier, talking to herself more than to her mother. "Or th-they wear a dress like th-that and people c-can't control themselves and they end up getting r-raped..." she whispered. "B-because of something st-stupid like shoulders."

"Oh, please," her mom snorted, snapping Frankie out of her trance. "You're not going to get raped. It's a dress."

"N-no," Frankie stammered. She walked over to the stairs. "I'm not wearing that dress. I'm not even going to the dance."

"What?" Her mother exclaimed, following Frankie. "Yes you are; you're going with Gerard."

"No, I'm not!" Frankie yelled, finally reaching her limit. "I'm not going with him, and I don't want to go with him." She stormed up the stairs and into her room, leaving her mother behind.

She slammed the door shut and collapsed on her bed. Tears started to fill up her eyes for the second time today as she replayed the conversation in her head. The dress. Shoulders. People not being to control themselves.

Frankie choked back a sob as she briefly fantasized herself at the dance. She could wear her binder; she could wear a suit. She could be himself.

Then images of reality drifted in. People would stare at her. They would tease her, call her names she couldn't imagine. They would use the wrong pronouns on purpose.

Frankie gasped, her shoulders shaking from sobbing. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't live her life in fear. She had to do something. Now.

The first thing that came to her mind was to come out to her mom, right then and there. She had her hands on her binder when she realized what a stupid idea that was.

She sat back down on her bed, wiping her eyes. If her mom found out Frankie was transgender, she would kick her out of the house. Frankie didn't want that. As much as she would love to live with Brendon or Ryan, she couldn't put that big of a burden on them.

"Soon," she mumbled to herself. "Soon."

Soon was a word that always made her calm down. But this time, it only made her feel more frantic.

"Soon," Frankie whispered one more time, hands shaking slightly. She was scared. Scared of how far away soon would be.