Page 8

Dear Diary: October 16th

Happy birthday to me! Today is my fourteenth birthday. When I woke up this morning and remembered it, my heart sank to my stomach. When I was in the bathroom, I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger looking back. It made me start crying.

It has been about 2 years since this started. Everyone involved told me it was the best thing for me and that I was born in the wrong body. They all say it. They are experts at this, so they must know what they are doing. Then why don’t I agree with them? Why don’t I feel like being born a boy was the wrong thing. I admit I am not the most religious person; we get it in school, but could God make a mistake like that?

I still like school. The kids at Wheaton are much better than those at Sanger. As a group they are a lot smarter than the ones at Sanger. Or, maybe they just take it more seriously.

I have even made some friends. Other girls, (did I just refer to myself as being a girl?) and another trans boy. Funny, the girls in trans to become boys don’t like us at all.

When am I going to want to become a girl? Am I ever?

Robbie finished his diary entry. He read it over and when he finished, an uncontrollable sob came over him. He took a deep breath hoping it would not happen again. He held his breath for several seconds then relaxed. Robbie closed, locked and hid the diary between his mattress and box spring. It was a school night and it was time for bed.

In his private bathroom, he washed his face, brushed his teeth and hair then looked in the mirror. For no apparent reason, Robbie started to flood his cheeks with tears. Not an unusual occurrence.

* * *

Robbie’s study hall period came at the end of the day. It started with the usual bell ringing at 3:00 P.M. Robbie and his trans friend Stephanie, formerly Steve, shared a table.

Stephanie had been a source of knowledge, comfort and at times, inspiration. He began his trans at the age of ten. Like Robbie, he had a helicopter mother. In Stephanie’s case there was no father in the home at all.

Two of Robbie’s other good friends, Kristin and Angelina, were at the table next to theirs. Both of them were born girls and staying that way. But they were very open-minded. Most of the students were. Not all of them .

Stephanie and Robbie arrived for study hall in the first floor library a few minutes early. Robbie took his normal seat facing the front, where the library was located. Stephanie was to Robbie’s left across from him. He was facing the hallway door.

“Dyke patrol at twelve o’clock,” Stephanie whispered to warn Robbie.

What he referred to were two girls transitioning to boys entering the study hall. Robbie, as did everyone, knew who Stephanie was referring to. They were two girls who were almost ready for the surgery. And they did not hide their contempt for trans boys wanting to become girls. Why would anyone want to be a girl and not a boy?

Their names were Carla and Emily. Their trans names were Alex for Carla and Kevin for Emily. Even the teachers knew better than to make the mistake of calling them by their female names. These two were mean and they wanted everyone to know it.

Robbie had opened a textbook and was holding it up to read. As the two trans boys walked past, Alex/Carla, the meaner of the two, slapped the book out of Robbie’s hands. The book went flying out of Robbie’s hands and landed on the floor next to Stephanie. Seeing her mate slap the book away, Kevin/Emily laughed much more than the prank was worth.

Robbie looked up from his chair at the two troublemakers but said nothing.

Alex looked at Robbie and said, “Got something you want to say, Miss Pretty Pansy?”

By now, Stephanie had retrieved the book and placed it in front of Robbie. Again, Robbie looked back without responding.

Alex reached down, picked up the book and tossed it on the floor next to Robbie.

“Pick it up, Pretty Pansy,” Alex said.

Robbie sighed then let out a breath of air indicating his annoyance as he stood. When he bent down to pick up the book, Alex made a huge mistake. She reached down and grabbed Robbie by his hair and yanked him up.

Both Alex and Kevin were sophomores, a year older than Robbie. Over the past year, despite the puberty blockers, Robbie had grown three inches and put on fifteen pounds. On top of that, Robbie was still a boy. Alex was still Carla, the girl.

Pulling his hair the way she did hurt Robbie. He let out a short howl, then thousands of years of male evolution took over.

With his left arm, Robbie knocked Alex’s hand off of his hair. Reflexively, Robbie turned and before he realized what he was doing, landed a perfect right jab squarely onto Alex’s nose.

The punch flattened her nose, made it burst into a bloody mess and knocked her flat on her back. Robbie found himself standing over her with both hands as fists. It took two or three seconds before Robbie realized what he had done.

“Bitch,” he said looking down at her.

By now everyone in the study hall was standing, watching the confrontation, including the study hall teacher/monitor, Ms. Gillian. Debra Gillian was a twenty-two year old social justice teacher fresh out of Macalester, a liberal arts college in St. Paul.

Horrified by what she had just seen, something she had never experienced before, she froze. With Robbie standing over Alex, fists clenched and a fierce look on his face, everyone froze. These things simply do not happen at The Wheaton Academy.

The silence lasted, maybe, three seconds. At the exact same moment, everyone in the room, except Ms. Gillian, let out a cheer. Alex/Carla had bullied quite a few of them. She was not about to receive any sympathy.

Do something was the recurring thought running through Debra Gillian’s head. While the cheering was still going on, Gillian finally got moving.

A half-hour later, Alex was still lying on a cot in the nurse’s office. She had her head back and a towel covering her nose. The nurse had wanted an ambulance. Alex insisted that her mother be called.

Meanwhile, a frightened Robbie and Ms. Gillian were in the chancellor’s office. Fortunately for Robbie, quite unfortunately for the wounded Alex, Ms. Gillian had witnessed all of it.

“Is that what happened, Robbie?” Chancellor Warner asked .

Debra Gillian had told the true story to the chancellor. Of course, he wanted to know where she was and why she did not stop it.

“It happened so fast,” she replied. “I was shocked and it took a few seconds for me to realize what happened. But Alex was the aggressor, no doubt about it.”

Also in the chancellor’s office was the vice-chancellor in charge of discipline, Grady Sinclair. Sinclair was a hire from the public school system in St. Paul. He was a high school math teacher and one-time Marine. Having become totally fed up with the non-discipline coddling of students in America’s public schools, he went to Wheaton and never looked back. Sinclair also had a master’s degree in education.

“Robbie, would you wait out in the reception area please?” Chancellor Warner asked.

“Sure,” Robbie said, relieved to at least get out of the chancellor’s office.

Robbie left and Chancellor Warner turned to Sinclair.

“Grady?” was all he asked.

“That’s what happened?” Sinclair asked Ms. Gillian.

“Yes, there are thirty students up there who saw it. They’ll tell you the same thing,” she answered.

“These two, Alex and Kevin, the girls transitioning to boys, they’ve been a problem,” Sinclair told Warner.

“How so?”

“Mostly little things. They’re becoming boys and bullies. Especially toward younger, smaller kids. If it was up to me, they would both be gone and that would be the end of it,” Sinclair said.

“All of the other students in the study hall cheered when Robbie hit her,” Gillian added.

“They did?” Warner asked.

“Loudly,” Gillian answered.

“We have a problem,” Warner said. “This Alex, her father is Harold Lane. He’s a senior partner of Rockford, Bass, a large, politically connected law firm,” Warner said.

“And he’s a big donor,” Sinclair said.

“Yes, he is,” Warner said.

Warner looked at a clock on the wall which gave the time as 3:55, five minutes until the bell .

“Debra, ask Robbie to come back in, please,” Warner told Gillian.

“Robbie,” Warner said, “bring your mother or father in with you tomorrow morning. You’re suspended until then.”

“Okay, it’s five minutes…”

“We know. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Warner told him.

Warner’s phone buzzed. He answered it, listened for a moment then said, “I’m sure she is. Yes, Alex can go.”

“That was Nurse Smith. Alex’s mother is here. She’s mad as hell. I’ll call his father and see if I can get him to come in. You and I will meet with him,” Warner told Sinclair. “I’ve met him. He seems reasonable enough. We’ll see.”