"I'm home," Frankie called out, dropping her backpack on the floor.
Her mom poked her head into the room, a towel wrapped around her head and body. "Where were you?" She asked.
"I went out for coffee with some people I met today," Frankie said. She scanned her mother's body and sighed. "You're going out again?"
"I am, and would prefer if you didn't make any negative comments." The woman snapped, ducking back into the bathroom.
"I never said anything negative," Frankie retorted, heading to her room. "I'm actually quite happy for you." That was partially true. With her mom gone, she could finally be himself for the night.
Her mom glared at her suspiciously, but shrugged it off. "Whatever. Don't do anything you shouldn't. You can make your own food, right?"
Frankie shrugged. "'Kay."
"Oh, one more thing," her mom added, standing in the doorway, now in a sleek black dress. "I bought you a nice dress and makeup for Saturday. I want you to try it on tonight."
Frankie tensed up. "You know I don't like dresses, Mom."
"Well, you'll have to deal with it, because that banquet is important to me," she said. "And I need my daughter there so I can look good." She plastered a fake, tight smile on her lips. "You understand, right?"
"Sure."
"Good. Now go try on the dress, I never see you in one anymore." She walked back into her room.
Frankie closed her own door. There was a reason why she never wore dresses. She only wore skirts because her mother made her, and there was no way she would argue with her mom.
She glanced at the dress hanging on the closet hook. It was a light purple color with lace on the edges. That wasn't the thing that bothered her, however. It was the fact that the dress what strapless. She hated strapless, and her mother knew that.
She felt so exposed once the dress was on. It barely went to her knees and her shoulders were showing.
"Oh my god," Frankie whispered to herself, curling her hands around her shoulders. She'd heard of stories about boys who couldn't handle the exposure of shoulders, which was the stupidest thing in the world. Still, it made her worry.
She rummaged through one of her drawers, pulling out black shorts and a leather jacket. She put them on and examined her reflection. Now her shoulders would be covered. She could cope with this for the banquet.
She heard the front door open and shut, then the sound of her mother's car pulling out of the driveway. Perfect.
Frank ripped off the dress, pulling on a pair of skinny jeans that was hidden in his closet along with his binder. He ran into his bathroom, snapping on a hairnet and pulling on a dark brown wig and fastening it in place with bobby pins.
He decided to call Brendon. It was better than sitting in his room doing nothing.
"Hey Frankie," Brendon greeted when he picked up.
"Frank," the boy corrected.
"Sorry, Frank. I can't tell over the phone. So, what's up?"
"My mom's going out for the night," he explained. "You wanna come over? We could order a pizza, put on a horror film..."
There was a moment of silence. "Can Ryan come?" Brendon asked in a small voice.
Frank sighed. Brendon and Ryan were (yet again) at the touchy stage of their relationship, which made it extremely awkward for Frank at times.
"Fine," he agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "But no sex on my bed. Or anywhere, for that matter."
"Fair deal," Brendon said, laughing. "We'll be there in five."
They arrived shortly after, Ryan clutching five or six movies in his hands. Frank smiled at the two.
"Hey Frank," Ryan greeted, tossing the DVDs onto the leather couch. "How's the new school?"
"It's alright," Frank answered honestly. "I miss you two, though. I don't know anybody well yet."
"I wish I could go to the public school," Brendon sighed. "But I'm trapped in Satan's asshole."
Frank snorted as Ryan kissed his boyfriend's cheek. "At least you have me."
Brendon turned to kiss him properly. "You're the only good thing about that hellhole."
Frank turned away from the touch couple. Here they go again.
He awkwardly traced a finger across the countertop. "So you still hate that private school?" He asked when they were done.
"Yeah; it's awful," Brendon said. "Pretty cute guys, though," he added with a giggle as Ryan slugged him in the arm.
"Any guys you're eyeing?" Ryan asked Frank with a smirk.
"Give him a break, Ry, it was his first day." Brendon scolded.
Frank was about to shake his head no, but that was before an image of Gerard floated into his mind. Like he would ever have a chance with him. There was no way someone like Gerard would want to date a scrawny boy like him.
He realized that he'd been thinking about Gerard for too long and jerked back into reality. By Brendon and Ryan's faces, he knew that there was no excuse.
"You do like someone," Brendon said in a sing-song voice. He rested his chin on his hands, staring up at Frank like a five year old waiting for a story. "Tell me all about him."
Ryan was listening eagerly as well. Frank couldn't lie; they knew him too well.
"He's... well, he's pretty cute," he started, smiling at the floor as he spoke. "I was taking with him today, and it's so easy. We didn't have to force conversation or anything like that."
"Sounds like one of those sappy teenage romance movies," Ryan joked. "What's his name?"
"Gerard." The word sounded good coming from his own lips. "But I'll never have a chance with him," Frank sighed. "No one wants to date a trans boy."
"Don't say that. There are many people who would and have dated transgender people," Brendon said.
"I don't know. Maybe." Frank sighed. "He'll look at me and just see the girl. Not who I truly am."
A lumped formed in his throat. Ever so often, he'd have these urges to get rid of Frankie. To finally throw her away and be Frank. Forever.
Brendon and Ryan noticed his expression. He looked up at them.
"I want to transition," Frank whispered with tears in his eyes. "I can't hide behind a mask anymore. I want to be myself."
"I know," Brendon said, enfolding Frank in his arms. "I know you do." He rested his chin on the top of the boy's head as he started to cry.
He and Ryan have heard this speech before. It usually happened after he'd have a rough day with his mom, but had never broken down over something small like this.
"Are you saying this because of Gerard?" Ryan asked softly.
"N-no," Frank sniffed. "I think everything just started to build up."
"So... you're serious?" Ryan asked. "About transitioning, I mean."
"Of course I am," Frank said. "I've wanted top surgery ever since Dad died."
Ryan wrapped his arms around him. "We'll be there for you," he muttered as Brendon nodded in agreement.
"I just want to be a normal boy," Frank murmured.
"I know you do," Brendon said, squeezing his hand. "We'll help you."