Radioactive Femininity TG - Part 14-1

Radioactive Femininity

Part 14 – “Safe He Not Guaranteed”

The day when it’s easy to write is the day you’re doing it wrong.

As I’ve mention before, though I read ravenously, I didn’t write much. I had ideas. I had all sorts of thoughts. Most are best left out of this.  

Whether a quiet day when nothing was happening or a busy day when everything was, my mind wandered. What if a portal suddenly opened in front of me between worlds and times? Would I be willing to jump through it into the unknown? What if a Vogon Constructor Fleet suddenly emerged from deep space? Would I be ready to grab the nearest towel?

I often daydreamed of change, a jolt to the status quo, whether good or bad. But I didn’t write. So many random, horrible, beautiful, exasperating ideas sublimated away by the energy of youth. Followed by the tedious task of piecing together the remnants to glimpse, through dimmer eyes, what once made it all so marvelous.

Kenzie at age sixteen, standing on that ramp with Lea, is a vastly different person from me now. You can cite Stanford studies and old Ray Bradbury tales about how often the brain or the body remakes itself over months and years into an entirely different form to support that. We’re still close enough to be twins but separated by a gulf of time, change, and more.

I can divine her a bit through my memories. Then cringe at certain moments, groan from several, and often raise my eyebrows and shake my head at the whole thing. I’m sure some iteration who follows me will feel the same about now.

She can bite me.

As for the Kenzie tangled up in my words and our story, she still sailed on the warm notions of friendship, confidence, and strength. A good place to hold for happy thoughts but no such high ever persists.  

Rising up the even grade of the ramp with Lea gripping my hand, I could shrug off the fears and anxieties of tainted responsibility. What I’d done had created a beautiful person, one growing into his or her sincere self, a hatchling of human spirit.

Lea’s face caught a ray of mid-morning sun streaming off the overhang. It trickled through her slightly-tousled, raven hair and brought a quick squint to her eyes. Once past it, she took careful but steady steps to the open door.

It loomed open, displaying fraying, thin brown carpet and the cusp of an English poster cut off at the verbs.

Chilton tossed another “shh” through and the ineffectual suggestion to “get back to the sentences or I’ll be writing referrals.” He lobbed a few names around the room before turning a sympathetic look back to us.

Lea gripped both me and her loaner backpack a little too tightly as she exhaled the word, “Alright…”

After all that preamble, the room’s first reaction was surprisingly still. Once past the door, everything had a sickly, cloying warmth smothered in sweat. Marginally better than cat piss.  

Then, came the dull roar. Not even the best of teachers could’ve nipped it in the bud. Excusing the semi-coherent swearing, I could make out some bits here and there.

That’s him!...Some girl?...It can’t be…You saw!...Got powers…An alien?...How big his titties?

Dragging on my hand, Lea slowly receded between me and the wall. Her head dipped and she brought her backpack around as a little shield. I clenched my jaw and turned to face the cacophony.

I stared sharply over the whole class. I thought about how my mother looked when she was especially cross. No matter how weak my version was by comparison, I wielded it.

It didn’t really work but I persisted till the talk began to settle on its own. Silently, I walked with Lea to the empty TA desk on the far side of the room. I remained a buffer between her and the room as she sat. I turned around and the entire room gave a ripple like a gasp. Like the villain in some campy program had just revealed their menacing face.  

So I menaced the room with my presence. I stalked to the closest empty desk with a wave of guys and girls leaning away from where I stepped. It would’ve been nice if I’d been cool about it. Just hoist up the desk and walk it back over. But it was a heavy-ass desk. Grunting and sliding it bit by bit across that wretched carpet was the best I could manage.

Lea helped me the last bit to position it right next to her desk. She kept her head down except when facing right to look at me.

“How big you titties, man!? How many time you play wit’ them?”

Of course, it was Treyvin.

Lea stretched the backpack to provide as much of a wall as possible. It quickly deflated.

I shot at Treyvin, “How big you want yours?”

Mouth open, Treyvin shook his head and said the sort of things he usually did. Still shut him up a little.

Chilton attempted to command the room while calling roll. He kept pausing to drag out his threats of referrals.

Lea sniffled without tears. She slipped out the notebook and a black pen from her backpack. She only looked up to see what Chilton had written on the main whiteboard.

We had a sentence from recent reading to diagram along with a few review questions. Lea crossed her legs under the desk and hunched close with the pen gripped in her hand.

While Wes never crossed his legs like that, he often bent forward to write. With that position, you wondered how he could even breathe. The pen curled in a claw grip of his right, like he was scratching it at the page instead of writing. Lea still wrote in that seemingly uncomfortable position with the same level cleanliness and speed.

No comment on my method of writing.

I noticed Heather staring at me from a sea of fluttering, shifting eyes. Her anxious expression from the other day and avoidance had settled into a stern calm. Slow blinks, tight brow, and arms folded in front of her. Like she expected some definite answer for why I was sitting there.  

I answered by looking back without anger or expectation. Eventually, Heather shook her head and went about the same board work.

“But serious…that gotta be a C-cup a’least…”

I doubted that Wes had been in the right state of mind to get herself measured but Trevyin probably wasn’t far off. Lea pulled the front of her sweater and gave another little sniffle.

Though Chilton soon stepped in, it was the black girls around Treyvin who had the strongest words.

“What you thinking say that around any girl?! Or guy or whatever. You don’t do that!”

“Hey…I know titties…”

“Know all of Playboy more like it. And that all you gonna know…”

They teamed up on him on all sides till he grumbled out a passive, “Shiiit” before slumping deeper into his chair.

Lea peeked over quickly before returning to her writing.

Please let it get easier for both of us. It had to get easier. Somehow. It had to.

Things settled down for a bit. No more outbursts. I could pick up words said about us but it didn’t matter. Listening fed my imagination for what I didn’t pick up. Instead, I took out my textbook, shared it between us like last night, and tried exceptionally hard to care about Chilton’s lesson.

It had something to do with the American Dream. Not really but I mainly remember only a few works in 11th grade and The Great Gatsby was one of them. I’m also using ‘remember’ loosely. I recall it was taught. I don’t remember any of the actual text.

But Chilton, between filling out referrals and fanning them, brought up the question of ‘What does the American Dream mean to you?’

Lea held her pen against the note page. I’d been taking some notes as well but the less said about the horror show spread over the paper the better. She brushed some of her hair over her ear and pressed the back of her fingers over her lips. She gave a visible swallow and raised her other hand high.

Chilton widened his eyes and asked, “Yes....uhh…”

With firm, steady words she said, “I’m Lea. I think the American Dream...is having the best opportunity to fulfill your innate potential and pass the same on to your family and…loved ones…” She rose up slightly in her seat.

With a wobble of nods, Chilton marked simply “opportunity” on the board and waited for the next reply.

Having lots of money came up. Having a family. Good job. Being successful. It soon became all the stuff everyone in the room wanted to have. Some of them were ‘small’ things like a PlayStation. Some were mansions to put pop stars and rappers to shame.

Lea sighed softly and looked out across the room. A few people looked our way. She only crouched to take random notes. The session crawled along, as it always did.

The novelty of the two of us started to wane as nothing exciting happened. Perhaps her hair had crept out by an inch or two but nowhere near enough to tell. Her marginal changes had come and gone and returned. Her lips still looked fairly plump and her eyebrows fairly tame.

Wes had always been attractive, it was just turned a different way. I wanted to say she wore his face well but that made it sound like she was some alien from Men in Black.

She was like Wes’s twin sister, only it was still him. Only it wasn’t because I’d blasted her full of whatever I had in me. And I only hoped this was as far as it went.

I’d already reshaped her into something she hadn’t been before. She accepted it, even encouraged my energy. And there was a sense, a hope, that this was still the original Wes…only it was like how he would’ve been if he’d been born female and…meant to be female? I still lingered in that question mark though I tried not to dwell on it.

My fears half-thought what might happen with further…with more…stuff?

What if she could become anyone or anything? ‘Like’-heavy Kats? Buff Summer? A giggly cheerleader? Someone I couldn’t even imagine? What was I even dabbling with and what right did I have to start her on this path of change in the first place?

Would I even recognize anything of the person in Wes’s skin if this kept going?

It sucked to swing between confidence that everything would be fine and stress that I’d certainly fucked up and would fuck up again. For Lea, I swallowed what nausea I was feeling and smiled.

Soon, we had exploration questions. For groups again. Three, at least. We’d have to be a special exception. It would be easy enough. But I noticed Heather slipping between the rows and moving towards us with notebook in hand. I tensed my legs and tried to keep my expression calm.

With a frown, Heather said, “Hi…”

I returned the gesture and told her the same. Lea offered a half-smile and whispered, “Hey, Heather.”

“What happened to you, Wes?”

She made sure to look solely at Lea when she asked that. A number of people in nearby rows turned from talking to one another to peer and crane an ear towards us.

Lea rubbed her hands together and answered, “My name is Lea. Did you want to amalgamate with our group?”

Heather’s first reaction was to shake her head slightly. She pursed her lips, looked solely at me, and asked, “What did you do?”

Everything. I did all of it.

I shrugged. “I helped Lea.”

A tremor-shake of Heather’s head as she asked, “But what did you do…to Wes?”

Before I could answer, Lea reached to grab my arm and urge, “Kenzie didn’t hurt me. She saved me. I was…I was…in a wretched place and she was there for me.”

Taking a step back, Heather held up her palms and admitted, “I don’t…I don’t get any of this. You…changed. I visited you Wednesday and you were…ready to…I mean you know what you said to me, right? Do you remember any of that?”

I hadn’t realized the two of them talked.

Lea nodded and quickly answered, “I remember. All of it. Every agonizing moment. I was….ready to do something to stop it. But Kenzie found me…and she helped me.” She leaned her head on my shoulder. That side of me was just about Lea-crushed.

Sighing, Heather rubbed her eyes under her rectangular glasses before expressing, “This is nuts. This…is not a little thing. And I’m caught up in it too. That day…when Wes changed…I felt something. It was like being drunk….how I imagine it would be like to be drunk…” She glanced around to the groups beside her. They just looked amongst themselves.  

Chilton lifted his head from a group he’d been distracted by to ask, “Hey hey…What’s going on over there?”

I smiled and assured him it was nothing as he reiterated that everyone needed to get started on the work.

Heather leaned against a table, outside the range we’d discovered in the library, and continued, “I didn’t feel myself then. It was really freaking weird. It wasn’t awful at the time. But, when it stopped…it was like I realized I wasn’t actually in control of my body then. Or it wasn’t me in my body.”

Neither prospect made me feel alright to consider. I brushed my hair back and told her, “I didn’t mean to do anything. I was just sitting there.”

Staring at the utterly uninteresting carpet, Heather made sure I knew, “But you did do something. You did something to Wes and something to me. And I don’t know who else you did it to. But it’s really scary…because right now I don’t know if my urge to hug your arm too is because of feeling bad for you or if it’s because of what happened to me that day.”

Lea’s head lifted from my shoulder and her tight grip unraveled. She still clasped my fingers. I squeezed her fingers gently and took a breath. Stalling for time.

What could I say? I’m sorry? I have this power that I can’t really control which changes those around me and which I can somehow, sometimes focus on them to a deeper effect? Never mind that I wanted Heather to be more on my side and I wanted Wes to feel what it was like to be a short, cute girl in conflict with herself.

Do I say that I’m some sort of reality-warper with a predisposition for making people girlier? No. Besides, I was just guessing anyway. No one needed to know my guesses.

I had to say something though. Something worth the time I spent silent and nervous.

But I didn’t get to say it because Chilton came over soon after and placed Heather with another group. He told us, “Just uhh…you two work together. That’s fine.”

The row nearby gave groans of exasperation. The drama, more exciting than anything we were reading, had been cancelled. A few eyes stuck around to see if there was anything else but most soon turned away, leaving us some measure of privacy.

I whispered for Lea, “I am so sorry.”

She gently shut her eyes and murmured, “Please don’t be. Don’t be sorry for the beautiful things betwixt the challenges.”

A guy in the front row I didn’t know, and whom I barely remember, asked, “So are you two gonna kiss now or what?”

I trained my fledgling scowl on him. He raised his hands in apology and muttered, “Never mind…fuck…”

Lea trained her own look at him but he’d already retreated to his group. With a gentle snort, she dipped her head and brushed her hair back again before glancing up at me. She looked to be searching for words but her quiet embarrassment and amusement told me enough.

I offered, “Still…I want to do more to make up for…everything…”

The flush faded from her cheeks as she advised me, “Not everything needs to be on your shoulders. As you said, we will find a way, right? And no matter what I call myself or what people call me…I am me. Changed but still me. And it’s going to be okay…for both of us.”

My words felt a little more certain coming out of someone else’s mouth even if I did still feel the whisper of those same doubts. But I tightened up what courage I could claim and borrowed one of hers to say, “Alright.”

With that, we simply returned to our group work. We still got stares from time to time, especially when Lea acted like we were back on the front room couch by ourselves and pressed against me despite the separating metal rods. I did my best to ignore them.

I marveled instead that Lea’s changes had settled. Her bust hadn’t developed further and her hips hadn’t pressed out like Heather’s in the fallout of Lea’s change. She might’ve been a little softer around the cheeks but nothing more.

Perhaps it was something about my focus and how my will expressed it? I desperately didn’t want Lea to change into someone she was not. But what did I want?

Joy. Energy. Resilience. Exuberance. Self-confidence. All the things which had blossomed in Lea last night to bring her serenity, I wanted them to continue to flower. But were all those things coming from the genuine ‘her’? What about the discouragement, quietness, concern, nervousness, and doubt? Were good or bad emotions truer to her?

I watched Lea as she finished an impeccably-rendered and verbose paragraph. We read it back and both fought the giggles. Her beaming smile flashed a tickle of white teeth. I told myself a smile had to be better than any alternative. I focused on that.

We were finished ahead of pretty much everyone, so we did the next thing on the board and read through a little historical introduction of the author. The page, like pretty much every page in the textbook, was an ADD’s nightmare of so much shit piled into the margins in tiny script with fancy graphics that were laughable years ago (and would be even worse looking back) cluttering everything.

While I skimmed through, Lea brushed a finger through her hair and gave a slight grimace. She uncovered her ears and smoothed the hair back before turning to me and asking, “H-how do I look?”

Like a pretty girl when you started the week as a hot guy. I figured she meant more about her hair and answered, “Fine. Maybe you could use a brush.”

She messed with her hair a little bit more. Sadly, I didn’t have anything with me that could help her. And I really wasn’t the sort of person to ask about how she looked anyway.

Standing from the desk, Lea crept over, half-crouched, and asked the nearest group with several girls if she could borrow a hair brush. Not only did one let Lea borrow a plastic brush from her bag but she also gave her a spare hair-tie. They said a few things to each other in Spanish before Lea returned to her seat.

Lea soon explained, “That’s Valerie. She’s in my next period history class. I can give the brush back to her then.”

She stared at the brush a little and turned it around. Gently, she ran it through her hair, catching on a few of the tangles. Wes always took care of his hair, so this didn’t really feel that different for me.

When she finished brushing, it had a sleek, glossy flow down her neck. It poofed out at the end but there was nothing Lea could do about that. She used the silvered, barred window in the back to check her work.

With a hair-tie, it looked under control in a small but puffy ponytail. Still, Lea fussed with it till she finally seemed satisfied. By that time, group work was wrapping up.

Chilton called out for answers. Lea eagerly raised her hand and presented the better parts of our material.

“Though it would risk deliberate hyperbole to categorize the American Dream as the foundation of America, it manifests within the abstract consciousness of preeminent national priorities. First, politicians cite it as point of fact as a rhetorical flourish in any speech. They say Americans want to be the best and this lofty aspiration transfuses itself throughout society. Second, the unyielding acquisition of wealth as an end in and of itself typifies this same prerogative. Americans are ordained as successful members of society if they add to wealth generation which circulates with the dream of self-attained prosperity. Finally, Americans work challenging, longer hours than the rest of the world in the desire to achieve and fulfill themselves expeditiously. Workers who are the best assail to be the most rewarded. In conclusion, the American Dream exists because Americans fundamentally and ambitiously pursue more than what they currently have.”

Chilton led a little clap for the class while highlighting the points Lea brought up. Needless to say, the above was not written by Lea back then. Rather, I did my best to approximate Wes/Lea’s style. I probably made this version too clear to read. You’re welcome.

There were some murmurs around the class between the languid claps. I couldn’t be sure if they were more rumors and questions about Lea or if they were simply lost about what she’d said.

Lea rotated her neck and clutched her small ponytail before glancing over at me with a half-grimace of embarrassment. I assured her it wasn’t that bad. She nodded and rested her head on the table with her hands clasped underneath. I rubbed her shoulder gently and whispered, “Just three more.”

She clenched her eyes shut and answered, “But friends of Nats in two of them…”

With a puff through her nostrils, Lea reiterated quietly, “…It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. She’ll see me. We can do it.”

I nodded and half-listened to the other groups. We didn’t get far in the lesson. Just far enough to be assigned plenty of reading for the weekend, as usual. Then, at the end of class, Chilton finally spoke to the looming issue in the room.

“At the beginning of this week, something happened when we went to library. It’s still being…looked into by the administration but you will treat everyone with full respect of school code and classroom conduct or you’ll be writing them for Saturday work. Next week, if anyone doesn’t treat their fellow students with full respect…full respect… then you’ll be immediately sent out.”

If he wanted to enforce that then he should’ve sent them out this time. But it was more of a reaction than I expected from Chilton. He waved Lea to stand. She looked over at me, took a deep breath, and approached the front of the class.

He introduced her with her full name and said, “You will treat her with full and complete respect…No nonsense.”

Lea gave a little wave to everyone. I could only imagine this sort of thing had been done better by her last period Spanish teacher. Leaning on her leg towards me, Lea got a question from a girl in the rear middle of the room.

“You really a girl now?

Curling her lips, Lea nodded slightly with her head down and said, “Yeah, I’m a girl. Totally…and all that. It’s…different and everything…yeeeah.”

A series of questions came out. From blunt ones about her period to little ones about what it was like. Lea’s head darted around to try to catch them all. She rubbed her hands together and looked over at me.

“I really pretty flummoxed right now. I still feel like me. I just want to be me. Whatever that means…now.”

Then came a wave of offers both ridiculous and earnest. Offers to give her makeup and clothing tips, answers hygiene questions, and promises to beat up random people who might try to mess with her. I was pretty well ignored but that was a fine spot for me.

Lea thanked everyone and blushed quite a bit before creeping back over to her seat. I did my best to keep out of the way when some girls came over to talk. Valerie, with her black, Rachel-style hair, was amongst them.

Some products were passed to Lea, who held them like a ticking bomb. Other girls showed their compacts, along with different brands and colors. When they started to disperse, she was left with a blank look in her eyes while gently clawing at the edge of the table.

Yeah, there was that part of being a girl. And all that came along with it. I walked around the back of her table, laid a hand on her shoulder, and quietly reiterated, “It will be alright.”

She took a deep breath and clasped my hand as she responded, “I know. My mom vaguely alluded to…all this stuff. I just felt circumspect about inquiring further because of everything else.”

Lea rose from the seat gingerly and with her loaner pack in tow. She stretched and muttered, “I just…it kinda sucks…I was fairly set in what puberty was like for a guy. Now I have to articulate the cycle of life in a whole new language. And I don’t even get the run-up of being a…little girl. Just all of it at once…from the deep end.”

Well, life by itself can be a deep end. I vaguely wished that Lea could be some sort of cycle-free girl. Or maybe it was better to wish that hers were quick and relatively painless. She could also take the pill but that would depend on what her family approved of.

For the moment, all I could do was give her a little hug. She flashed a faint smile and said, “I’ll be alright. I’m more worried about getting through history. Val will be there though. You have Horwitz next, right? Will you be okay?”

I promptly assured her not to worry about me. So long as Natalie didn’t go leaping off the side of a building in camo face paint and wielding a Bowie knife. I expressed this visual to Lea and she raised her eyebrows at me. I offered, “You said she can be like me and I could imagine doing it so…yeaaah.”

She raised her eyebrows higher and I stuck out my tongue. She giggled and flashed a quick smile. Anything to give her a smile.

Not long after that, the bell shrieked in that exasperating sound and released the class. Chilton tried to get in a fruitless reminder about the homework. At least he didn’t try to hold anyone after the bell. And he solemnly wished the two of us a good weekend.

Outside, it was back to the slogging crowds. Lea hung close to me even though our paths would diverge near the edge of the field. Once again, I went straight and someone else went another way. But she stayed with me on the path. Till past when her turn should’ve been.

I looked over at her with curious eyes. She fiddled with her ponytail, rubbed her arms, and said, “I wish we had all the same classes….”

We got pretty close freshman year with four out of six but that was the peak. I’d never known anyone with all the same classes as me. I turned to face her with the intent to rub her shoulder and think of something comforting to say. But she leapt at me.

Well, not literally. She rushed at me with her arms out and wrapped them around my body. No concern about anything in the way on her side or mine. I wobbled but caught myself so we didn’t both tumble to the sidewalk. Lea quickly and nervously apologized, leaning back into a hug wrapped around my shoulders.

I freed my arms to rub her back and reminded her, “Val will be in your next class. She knows what’s happening and your teacher probably knows what’s going on…”

With a sigh, Lea remarked, “Not this one…to an inordinate degree.”

Yeah, I had a few like that before. I rubbed her back a little more and urged, “You should know the words by now. We’ve both said them.” I didn’t have to remind her which words.

She nodded evenly, took a breath I could feel on my cheek despite all the people swirling around us, and amended, “But saying it’ll be alright is a daunting chasm from making that a reality.”

Fair enough.

Right then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flicker of black, like the edge of an eyelash dipping across my lens. Only it didn’t track from top to bottom but up and over from the depths of the dark hallway and across the roof.

Bigger than a black rat. More like a small monkey with the same crawling, leaping motion. My feelings flared and I rested my hand on Lea’s back.

No one and nothing was going to harm her.

She turned to look when she noticed my gaze. I smiled for her and said, “You know, if you ask, you could probably be sent to another classroom…if you feel like you have to…like my math class. Maybe.”

It was an outside chance. Especially if her history teacher was like she claimed.

I only watched the roof of the dark hallway out of the corner of my eye. No movement.

Lea’s eyes widened. It looked like her mind ran with the possibility. She clutched my hands while stretching on her toes. But she soon dipped with a calm but not sad expression.

“Thanks for the offer. And, believe me, indubitably, I want that. But it’s not the sort of thing I can do every single day when I feel stressed. I need to do my best to be strong…on my own.”

Of course, the last time she was strong on her own she got pummeled by Natalie’s fear and anger.

Begrudgingly, I accepted her decision but a smile, one last hug, and the words. “Take care.”

I watched her track back through the path and cut across the edge of the grass, creeping to avoid any soggy spots. Turning around, I scrutinized the roof of the dark hallway.

Whatever the hell it was, it was not getting my Lea.

In my mind, I could see myself adorned in a brown robe, my head leveled, and a beam of green light projecting from my hand. The beast snarled from the lip of the roof. I leapt far and fast through the air and sliced at its darkened belly. Weaving between air conditioning units, I rained hot metal in my wake.

It reared up like an angry chimp, its smoky tendrils flailing. I hacked it in half, sending the remains motionless to the abyss below. The blackness burned in agony until all that was left was the memory of its tormented screams for any that might follow.

I…should probably head on to class instead of engaging in little fantasies. But I left the thought there as a warning shot and a promise.