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I stood in my mirror, wearing each shirt I owned. The fabric suffocated my figure as if chiseling a sculpture of somebody unrecognizable to me. It's easy to pretend my life is just a movie of somebody else, from the first person. But the moment the fabric makes me feel my own skin, the illusion washes away like chalk on a sidewalk. I open my dresser and choose something, anything to bring the illusion back. I wish I didn’t have to view myself like this, I don’t even know why I think of myself like this. A sharp revelation that I fight so hard to push down suddenly shoots up my chest. I’m transgender.
When school starts, I sit in my usual spot in Mr. White’s class. Right next to me, there's an empty seat that belongs to Jesse Pinkman. I’m early, so it doesn't surprise me much that he’s not here yet. He barely ever gets in before the bell, honestly. Surprisingly, he walks in early too. “Yo, um….” He mumbles, trying to grasp some sort of conversation. “How are you doing dude?”
“Good man, how about you?” I respond, with a hint of confusion in my voice. Even though me and Jesse had been friends for a while, he’s never just straight up asked me how I'm doing. It was weird, but also felt like it should be normal. I mean, isn’t that usually what people say to each other?
“Um, alright.” He sits in his chair reluctantly, nervously shifting to get comfortable. I notice his eyes focusing on my expression. Analyzing every move of my face, trying to find something. “Could I talk to you for a bit?” He asks, leaning his elbow on his desk.
“Sure, what is it?” I question, my stomach tenses, and follows my heart. What could he see in me right now that might have accidentally slipped out? Usually, I'm pretty good at concealing what I’m feeling. I brush the thought off my shoulder. It’s probably something stupid anyway. Nothing to worry about
His eyes drift toward the wall, and come right back to me. “Its just that,” he stops himself and looks me up and down. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love baggy clothes, but why are you wearing a sweater in the middle of summer? It…worries me is all.”
I freeze. Quick, think of something to say. “I just get cold easily, I don't know.” I spit out. Shit, cold in the summer? There's no way he’s going to buy that.
He looks down at the floor again, slowly rubbing his neck with his hand. His eyes meet mine again, looking disappointed. “I won't poke you if you don’t want to be poked about this, but you can tell me anything. You know that, right *dead name*?”
My skin slithers uncomfortably at the mention of my name. He knows there's something going on now, what do I do? What should I say? I desperately try to cling onto a coherent thought. My eyes start to water before I can even do anything. Thankfully, I’m able to look away and suck the tears back in before he notices. He quickly shifts his attention back to the class, as Mr. White walks through the door. Surprisingly, the class had filled up quite a bit while we were talking.
Staring at the board, he leans to me slightly “We'll talk about this later if that’ll make you feel better" he says under his breath, just loud enough so that I can hear. “Want to meet at my place? My parents are gone, it’ll just be us”.
“Sure, yeah.” I say in a soft tone, unsure on whether I should be whispering or not. My muscles relax as I settle back into my seat. The closed zipper of my sweater folds on my chest with the movement, and I pull it flat again. I let my eyes close, and my surroundings blend in with each other. The talking around me slowly turns into white noise, along with my own thoughts. I’ll pay attention tomorrow, but for right now I just need to be anywhere else but here.
School ends, the final bell rings. Holding the cold steel handle of the door, I spot Jesse, waiting on the sidewalk. He’s leaning on a bus sign, looking up from his shoes every once and a while to try and see if he can spot me. I take a breath to myself and decide to walk over. He swiftly shifts his weight off of the sign when he notices me. We give each other a nod instead of saying hello. His feet move with mine, catching up with my pace. My hands tighten around the straps of my backpack.
I decided to break the silence. “Jesse, why are you doing this? We usually never talk about personal stuff.”
He looks at me intently when I talk. When I’m done, he looks back down at his shoes, which are kicking a pebble along the sidewalk. “I just felt like I should be a better friend. I never talk about personal stuff with people in general. Maybe I could get better at it, y’know?” The pebble flies off the sidewalk, throwing Jesse off his train of thought. “I’ve been worried about you lately, honestly. I know we're good friends, so I just want to be here for you like a normal friend would be.”
I feel my face heat up slightly. “Wow Jesse, that's actually really sweet of you. Thanks, seriously.” Maybe letting him know would be good for me. But what if he leaves? What if he thinks I'm crazy? If I don’t even know what's going on with myself, then how is he supposed to figure it out? Jesse quickly stops at the house, which catches me off guard. I didn’t even notice we were close.
“You still up to hang?” He asks, turning towards me and vaguely pointing his thumb toward his house.
“Yeah, I think I am.”