Part 1: The Big Lie
Pittney tried to pass as a boy among her friends when she moved to a new neighborhood. She lied to her newfound friends over summer break. She dressed like a boy and deepened her voice, and even cut her blond hair short like a boy. The deception upset Pittney’s mother.
“School has started, and you cannot keep this up,” her mother told her earlier today. “You’re the one who begged to go to public school, and you must stop making a fool of yourself!”
Her parents had homeschooled her and followed the public school’s curriculum. Pittney had asked them to send her to public school this year.
“I’m dropping it today, Mom. I’m coming clean to my friends tonight. But I can’t wear a dress yet, please. I’m too big for that anyway.”
As Pittney did pushups in her upstairs bedroom, she thought about the awkward mess she put herself in. She wore workout clothes, black spandex shorts, and a top. While doing one-handed pushups, she dribbled a basketball with her other hand. It needed much strength in her arms and more skill than most young girls have. “I had to live as a boy for a little while. They don’t understand,” she whispered to herself.
Pittney grunted, switched hands, and did pushups with her left hand. Her arms, shoulders, and back bulged with muscular definition. While changing hands, she tried to pass the ball to her new free hand by doing a crossover dribble but lost the ball.
“Dang,” she said, watching the ball roll to her nightstand. It was an impossible move anyway. “I’ll make that one day.” She kept pushing, straining.
Pittney finished her one-handed pushups, spun onto her rear, and began doing sit-ups. She raised her knees, keeping her feet flat on the floor, and kept her elbows together to slip between them.
Pittney could do these sit-ups in her sleep; her abs had no body fat and showed a rippling definition. She usually did a hundred sit-ups a night. She could do two hundred if the truth came out and hardly break a sweat.
When she rose, Pittney changed the exercise and started bicycling her feet and knees. She twisted her torso from side to side. While her body did sit-ups, her mind drifted to her evening run before dinner. She thought of meeting with her friends later after her run and supper and dreaded it.
***
Pittney ran with her back straight and her chin high. She took long strides and made her feet quiet on the pavement. Her heels sometimes tapped her buttocks, and she took long, easy breaths.
This neighborhood in Seattle used alley accesses to houses rather than driveways. The streets were vital corridors. The city planners designed the district in this manner to also add beauty to the homes’ front. The homeowner could not park along the curb either.
Pittney ran and thought about how she was much taller than the other sophomores. She was six feet, one inch tall the last time she measured. Pittney appeared thick in her clothes, but calling her heavy or chunky would be wrong. She had a chiseled, muscular body, broad square shoulders, and a beefed-up chest. She had large arms and thighs.
“I look like Groot,” she said aloud while she ran and laughed at the thought, splashing on the wet pavement. It had rained earlier, and streetlights reflected in long streaks on the dark street. Pittney thought about her new school and the students.
The rest of her classmates adjusted to her size and did not tease her. Pittney intimidated them. The school had tall girls on the basketball and volleyball teams who were not buff like her. They did snicker about her hair. Her hair didn’t suit her, and she hated it now. It embarrassed her, and she wanted to cover it with a cap, but her mother told her it made her look like a farmhand.
Pittney finished the two miles in twelve and a half minutes. She walked the alley behind her house twice to return to a normal heart and respiratory rate.
***
She showered and got ready for dinner. Pittney picked at her food during dinner, thinking of her two friends and what she would say to them about the lie. She had told her parents she no longer wanted them to homeschool her and asked them to send her to public school.
Pittney’s parents worked but had plenty of time to homeschool her. Pittney’s father, Lars, was an engineer at Boeing, but he could work from home.
Her mother, Stella, had a programming degree and worked for Microsoft from home. To hear her talk, she was the queen bee programmer, and they couldn’t get a project done without her. When Pittney was eight years old, homeschooling was an easy decision.
They sold the condo and moved to a district with a big school. Alder Park’s enrollment was over 1,600, giving it a 4A rating for sports. Pittney had been relentless about attending, and they allowed it.
Pittney should have spoken to her two friends and ended this act, the lie, in August, but she put it off. The end of October arrived, and she had turned sixteen on the twelfth. Now she must come clean to everyone. She had tried to carry the lie on into school.
She had wandered into the gym and read the posted tryout dates. Pittney knew she wanted to join the women’s high school basketball team.
She wasn’t in public school for two days, and Emma introduced herself. Emma had ocean waves of long brown hair and big brown eyes. How topsy-turvy could things get? She had gone from wanting to transition to wanting Emma. Emma had laughed at her! She laughed at the way Pittney faked a deep voice and mannish actions.
She came to realize that she did not want to transition at all. It was a lie. With Emma’s help, she discovered she was a lesbian. The trouble with that was Emma didn’t know she had helped her. It was her laugh.
“I’m freaking out,” she said while dressing. “I’ve gone from transmale at the start of school to lesbian in a flash! Why does figuring out how I feel need to be this hard?”
Her mother, Stella, had a fit when she went to the shop and got a boy’s haircut. Stella swung her purse at her, but Pittney dodged it.
She tried to talk to Emma in the hall that day, pretending to be a man. Pitty put her hand on the locker above Emma’s head. Emma laughed and walked away.
Her mother yelled up the stairs, “Pitty, come down to dinner before you go out to see your friends!”
“Coming, Mom!” Once changed, she slipped into her sneakers and wrapped ankle weights above them. She went to the dinner table wearing her wrist and ankle weights.
“Take off those wrist weights and eat,” Mom said. Stella and Lars were tall, too. On both sides, the family’s grandparents had come to Seattle from Denmark and were tall and blond. “Sometimes I think you are ten years old again!”
“Everything’s about resistance, Mom. I can’t walk and move without it. You know I’m in training for the basketball team. I’m also interested in the FIBA U19. If I make the girl’s team at Alder Park High, I’ll talk to the coach about the USA FIBA team.”
“What is FIBA?” Mom asked after she sat at the table beside Dad.
“I have an answer to something, for once,” Dad said with a grin. “FIBA is the International Basketball Federation. It governs world basketball. Making the team and playing in the tournaments is a big deal in Denmark and Europe.”
“I want to play in the U18 basketball tournament in Madrid for players under 18. I can attract recruiters from good colleges if I do well!”
“But you’re sixteen. I don’t understand how that works,” Stella said.
“The age bracket tournaments happen every two years. They leapfrog. They had the U17 this year, and the U18 will be next year. It’s when the best high school players compete nationwide.”
“Is it in the summer so that it wouldn’t interfere with school? Am I right?” Mom asked.
“Yes,” Pittney said. “Tryouts start in May or June. I’m not sure how it all works.”
“Is your homework done for tomorrow, Pitty?” Mom asked. They called her ‘Pitty’ at home. Her close friends did too.
“Yes, it is, and I finished my two-mile run in under thirteen minutes. I could run it in under eleven or less.”
“As long as your grades stay up, you can run and hang out with your friends. You know that schoolwork comes first,” Stella said.
A few minutes later, Pittney donned her zip-up hoodie and stepped outside into the night’s brisk fall air. Soon, she approached her two companions, Vince, and Jason, in the alley behind Vince’s house. They headed out toward the diner, their usual hangout.
She brought her basketball, of course, to get in dribbling time while they walked. She would pass it to her friends often; they would dribble for a minute, then return it. Pittney dribbled with her right hand, then the left, and crossed through her legs while she walked.
“Keep your chins up when you dribble,” Pittney told Vince and Jason. “Don’t worry about the ball. It will come back to your hand. Once you get confidence, you can learn the crossover dribble, like this.” Pittney dribbled the ball from one hand to the other. “A head-fake and a crossover dribble allow you to get a step past your defender.”
“Okay, show off,” Jason said. They knew she was better than them, taller, too.
“Always head-fake or ball-fake before you move or shoot,” Pittney said. “It will freeze your defender for a second and allow you to create the space you need to shoot or cut to the basket.”
She made friends with Vince and Jason soon after they moved there. They got close and considered one another brothers. But lately, they began noticing her body, even though it was well-toned. She could feel them gazing at her. No more pretending; she was a girl and would tell them so.
She had slowed, scared of the confrontation, and lost in her thoughts. Jason looked back at her and yelled, “Hey, Pits! Come on, catch up!”
“Yeah, Yeah,” Pittney said. She started crying and didn’t want them to see her face. Our friendship will end tonight! The dread made her cry. She trotted toward them, dribbling her ball and sniffling.
“Grab the ball and run. Geesh. You run like a girl!”
Pittney could stand straight, stretch out, run at top speed, and leave her friends in the dust if they knew the truth. But she didn’t want to put them to shame.
“Your ass is getting fat, too,” Jason said, and the boys laughed.
“Yea, milk tooth, momma’s boy!” Vince said, and they laughed again. They noticed her but didn’t quite understand what they saw.
She was taller than Jason by five inches, but Vince was much shorter than him. Jason had dark blue eyes, curly black hair, a cute forehead curl, thick black eyebrows, and a square jaw. He was handsome and confident, with no problem talking to girls.
“Yeah, milk tooth, momma’s boy!” Jason said, repeating Vince’s words. He squinted one eye like he didn’t understand and said, “Whatever that means.” He searched Pittney’s light blue eyes and laughed a fake laugh.
The words hurt a bit. But it wasn’t what they had said. That was stupid; it was how they said it. Hadn’t Pittney been a friend? Couldn’t they treat her like one? Tears came again, and Pittney turned her head so they couldn’t see her face.
“Wait a minute,” Jason said, and they stopped walking. They always did what Jason said. “Did that hurt your feelings?”
Jason turned Pittney around, and she raised a shoulder, bit her lip, frowned, and nodded. She admired Jason’s manly face, with those little whiskers on his lips. “We didn’t mean anything personal, Pitty. We were giving you a rough time, that’s all,” Jason said.
Jason put his arm around Pittney’s shoulders and gave a hearty hug. “You’ve got to learn how to take it and give it back. Wow. Your shoulders are buff.” Jason looked down her hoodie’s front at her chest’s slope. “You…You’re a girl…!”
Pittney placed her fingertips on his lips, stifling his words. “Not yet. I can’t talk about it yet.” Jason nodded, and she removed her hand.
Pittney had to think fast, to say something for Vince’s sake. She usually had to make her voice deep and mannish, but she decided to give that up. “I’m not fat, except for my hips. Mom wants to put me on a diet. God, I hate lettuce.” It was a lie, of course.
The boys laughed and agreed, making faces. Jason gave her a sly grin and a nod, and they walked toward the diner. Pittney felt like the stars were eyes, and they stared at her. Everything in the universe bore down on her.
There’s another catch that Pittney had to explain to her friends tonight. She did not lie when she said she liked girls. They had talked about ravishing this girl or that one, and she spoke the truth. That’s why she tried to pass as a boy in the first place!
She had read about transgender boys and girls with gender dysphoria. Pittney was crazy about girls and had decided that was her. She had dysphoria and must transition.
Pittney discovered her desire for girls and her orientation when she was thirteen. She would shop with her mother at the large grocery, sneak to the men’s magazine rack, and peek at the shapely women. That got boring, and she stopped. She wanted a girl to like her and get close.
Since Pittney yearned for girls around the clock, she thought she must be a boy in a girl’s body. Transitioning was the logical conclusion, and she never considered anything else. Also, Pittney read about transition medications and wanted to start taking them. Mom wouldn’t let her, and there was no use reopening the subject.
Pittney kept dribbling the ball.
Walking a step behind the boys, they turned onto the main road at the red light. They would be at the diner soon, too soon. Pittney stepped off the curb, dribbling her ball.
She had to tell them now. The truth would come out at school anyway since she planned to try out for the girls’ basketball team. How would Vince and Jason react without warning?
How would people at school act? Her size made her stand out everywhere, as did her skills. Socially, she was a loner. No one ever spoke to her except for her fellow gym rats, with whom she had played ball in the gym downtown. They had lived in the condo then.
Pittney had to admit to her two closest friends that she had been passing as a boy because, why? What would she say? Her friends would reject her! She shook her head, not wanting to think about that.
While talking to Jason and Vince, Pittney also decided to speak with the adults in her life. She would confess to everyone tonight and tomorrow when she got the chance. Pittney chose to talk to her mother about transitioning, too, no matter how scared she was.
If the boys asked why, what would she tell them? Was she genderqueer? She wasn’t sure what that even meant.
She wasn’t sure of anything.
They arrived at the diner, and Pittney tucked her ball under her arm. The three friends walked single file from the shadows and opened the diner’s glass and steel door. They entered the bright interior and found an empty booth.
The booths lined the wall by the long windows. The small tables, with two or three chairs, sat in the open space cramped together.
They had a routine. The boys removed their jackets and piled them beside Pittney, sitting by herself. Jason and Vince slid together along the brown vinyl seat across from her.
Vince got in after Jason and patted the table across from him. Vince winked at her. Vince winked! Why did he do that? “Sit here, Pitty, so that I can look straight at you.”
What’s up with him?
“Okay,” she answered. Pittney began unzipping her hoodie but stopped. She reached a decision point. Was this something she wanted to do, display herself for them?
Pittney swallowed hard and unzipped the hoodie. She removed it, put it on the pile, and put her ball on top. She straightened her shirt. Pittney faced them, stood tall and straight, and let them look at her front definition, which was no more than an ‘A’ cup. She knew they could see her white bra’s outline. Who cares? It’s clothing.
Jason grinned and elbowed Vince, who didn’t smile but sat with his brows furrowed in a nasty scowl.
“Nice,” Jason said, nodding. “I told you Pitty had tits,” Jason said. “How have you been hiding them?”
Pittney sat, ran her fingers through her short blond hair, and sighed. She smiled, but her face burned with blushing. “Not hiding, binding, but how I did it isn’t important. I’m showing you that I’m a girl.”
“Are you saying you’ve been a girl all summer?” Vince asked. Vince had never had a reputation for brilliance.
Jason laughed. “What else could she have been? She didn’t fool me.” That brag didn’t ring true to Pittney, but she let it go.
“There’s more to the story!” Pittney said, her cheeks were hot and red. “I’m still your friend. I have run with you guys every day since I met you. We played basketball, and I kicked your asses.”
“You passed as a boy all summer! Now I see it!” Vince said with a sneer. “I can’t believe you lied to me on purpose!”
“Keep your voice down, Vince. People are starting to stare,” Jason said. He shook his head at Pittney, still smiling.
“I’m not curvy like most girls because I’m an athlete. I don’t have body fat.”
Vince sneered and curled his top lip, saying, “You throw like a girl with your elbow up over your chin.”
Pittney had never seen him with hatred in his eyes. “No, I don’t. I throw harder overhanded than you,” Pittney said.
The waitress showed up at the table, masked, and addressed Pittney. “Miss, are these boys bothering you?”
“Miss,” Vince said, and he threw his head back and laughed, mocking Pittney. Patrons turned and stared. Some wore masks, but most did not.
“No, I’m fine, but thank you for checking,” Pittney said.
Pittney expected the conversation to be different from this. She had not wanted to defend herself against Vince, who grew angrier by the minute. Pittney stared at Jason, not at Vince, ignoring Vince.
Jason glanced around the restaurant, feeling uneasy. “People are staring at us,” Jason said. “Pitty, let’s take this outside. Come on.” Vince voiced his agreement. They each reached for their coats, and Pittney handed them to her friends. She put on her hoodie, grabbed her ball, and they walked out the door.
They walked single file with Pittney in the rear, the same formation they had arrived in. She kept her head down with her ball tucked under her arm. They went to the middle of the block, then turned right down the alley, one they never use.
The boys stopped in the alley beside an old garage with its windows boarded. They stood under a streetlight, and Vince and Jason turned to Pittney.
“I know why you wanted to stop here, Vince,” Pittney said, looking down at him. Vince was short but stout. “You want to kick my ass. Look, I apologize for living a lie. I see how wrong I have been, but I need you to understand what it’s like. I had to live like a man for a while. I had to!” Pittney sniffled and wiped tears from her cheeks.
“That’s understandable,” Jason said, nodding at Vince.
“And she’s crying like a girl!” Vince frowned and shook his head.
Pittney held up a hand, palm out, for him to stop. “Don’t be angry, Vince, please. I had decided to talk to you tonight about why I did what I did.” Pittney nodded. “Okay, here goes. I’m a girl who likes girls for my reasons.”
“Oh, man!” Vince said, turning his back, exaggerating his damage with his head back and flailing his arms. He turned to her slowly as if he were on stage. “A fucking lesbian.” Vince lowered his head and looked low under his thick eyebrows. “You’re still a lying piece of crap!”
“Wait, do you have that body dysmorphia thing I’ve read about, whatever it’s called?” Jason asked.
“At first, I thought I had gender dysphoria, but now I have checked my feelings. I thought that was me, but it was not. Vince is right. I’m not transgender; I’m lesbian.”
“Wait a minute. Do you remember that night in July when we sneaked into the pool? You didn’t get in the water because you said you had a cold,” Jason said.
“I lied, okay, and now I’m apologizing!”
They stood silent for a moment, then Jason spoke. “It does matter, Pitty. Because you fooled us; lying matters!”
“Will you please forgive me?” Pittney asked, crying again. “If I hadn’t lied, you would have treated me differently! You wouldn’t have hung out with or talked to me if you knew I was a girl! You two are my brothers! My brothers!” she shouted, crying. Pittney wrinkled her nose, broke down, and bawled into her hands.
“I can understand how you feel,” Jason said.
Vince strolled back to Pittney, the corners of his mouth turned down and his fists clenched. “You’re a goddam lesbian dyke, and a liar!”
Pittney jerked her hands from her wet face. “No! You don’t understand me at all! As I said, I had to live as a boy for a while so my feelings could settle and figure it all out. I felt like a boy when you met me! Hell, I was a boy! I let my facial hair grow and my leg and pit hair! I sat with my legs crossed at my ankles like a man and everything! But I realized it wasn’t who I was, Jason; I’m a girl. I understand myself more clearly, but that’s what it took!” She searched their faces expecting them to understand.
But she got blank looks from them. “I guess boys can’t feel anything like I’ve heard.” She stood with her eyes shut tight and sobbed.
“Nobody cares about all that but you!” Vince said, grimacing. “Since you’re a boy, I get to do this!” Vince swung fast, and his right fist smacked Pittney’s left eye, snapping her head back. The blow sent her down to the concrete.
“Vince!” Jason shouted. “What the hell, man! She had her eyes closed!”
Pittney rolled over on her side, crying in hard spasms, and she cupped her eye. She rolled into a ball and wailed.
Vince stood over Pittney, spat on the concrete near her head, then put his feet on either side of her torso. He clenched his fists, ready to beat her face. Pittney looked up at Vince with frightening wild eyes. He stood over her like a giant.
Jason grabbed Vince’s jacket by the shoulder and pulled Vince off her. “Leave her alone, Vince! I’m not going to let you hit a girl anymore!” Vince shook Jason’s fist from his coat.
Vince turned and walked away, and Jason offered Pittney a hand to get up. “No thanks, Jason,” she said between sobs, “I’m fine. You go ahead.” Pittney curled up on the white concrete and sniffled.
“Suit yourself, Pitty,” Jason said. He trotted and caught up to Vince, and they walked together down the alley, heading home.
Pittney’s plan had ended in violence. Her friend hit her in outrage, or did he do it to get off? Was he a sicko? That hurt more than her swelling eye. “Look what I’ve done!” she said, watching them walk away. Pittney put her hands over her face and cried.
When she finished crying, she sat on the concrete alleyway and looked at a tiny smear of blood on her palm. She had a low tummy cramp, and a warm and wet sensation in her crotch followed.
“To add insult to injury, my monthly comes sitting all beat up in an alley.”
She got to her feet and began trotting toward her house several blocks from there.
“I shouldn’t have lied about being trans, though,” she said when she neared the house. “God, I can’t let Mom see my eye!”
