Chapter Six

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O. 8th

He feels cold as his back stiffens.  His hands clench into fists on top of his lap as his nails bite into his clammy palms.  His body trembles with rage, gritting his teeth until his jaw hurts.  

Soon, tears sting his eyes, tears he blinks away so as not to show weakness.

"I'm truly sorry," the man before him says, his voice full of sympathy but his face one of hypocrisy.

"I don't understand why," Reese stresses.

"Because you are not a boy," the man sighs, holding back a roll of his eyes.

"Yes.  I.  Am."

"From what I see, no you are not."

Reese makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, face flushing a bright red.

But the man isn't done, "Your birth certificate clearly states otherwise, and thus, you are not allowed to change in the boy's locker room for P.E.  Honestly, I have half a mind to prevent you from using the boy's facilities.  But as it is, that is of no issue yet."

"You can't do that though!" Reese shouts, voice growing high.

"Sorry, Mr. Rivera, but do calm down unless you want detention for disrespecting the vice principal."

Reese swallows past the lump in his throat.  He can't.  He can't breathe.  He's so angry, so frustrated that he can't stop the tears from spilling.

He stands up abruptly, keeping his head down as he reaches for his bag before darting out of the office without another word.  The door closes harsher than it should, a resounding bang following behind him.  But he doesn't care.  He's angry.  He's hurting.  

It's not f*cking fair!

He rushes down the empty hall until he reaches a bathroom.  He pushes open the door and rushes to a stall where he begins to throw up.  He feels pissed and angry and repulsed, hating that his sex defines his identity.

He flushes the bile down the toilet and presses his back against the bowl, hunching forward and sobbing.  He grips his short hair, shuddering for breath and muffling his cries before someone passing by hears his pathetic whimpers.

"It's not fair," he croaks weakly, throat burning, "It's not fair."

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