by Molly E. Lee
I know it’s scary, but everything you’ve told me indicates they’ll support you. They may have questions regarding the process (I know I did!). I couldn’t sit at my keyboard and presume to know your situation, so I took your question (anonymously) to a well-trusted psychologist and he helped me come up with what we feel is the best plan of action for you. You by no means have to follow this advice—honestly you have to listen to your heart and your instincts more than anything. But, since you came here, I’m going to give you everything I have.
First, if you haven’t already found the local transgender support groups in the area, I’ve complied a list of them HERE. It is so important to talk to people who have undergone this process or are going through it currently. They will understand you and your needs in a way no one else can.
Like I said, from what you’ve told me, I doubt any of this applies to your parents, but you need to think about the tough questions and rule them out. Do you think they’ll respond violently? If so, you need to have a plan in place to protect yourself against such measures (a public venue and a trusted friend’s place to stay at until the situation calms down). Do you think they’ll deny all financial support? If that’s the case, you’ll want to construct a plan to pay for the medical (both mental and physical) care that will go into your transition.
Now, if you’ve ruled out the above, then most likely your supportive parents will have questions. Before you tell them, I suggest you create a list of questions you may think they’ll ask and write down the best possible answers. That way you’ll have a concrete list to go to, something that will guide you through the important process of gaining their full support and attention on the matter.
I’m betting—and hoping—that they will respect the truth about your body, mind, and soul, and support you as you go through this incredibly difficult process.
The road is hard, but nothing worth it is ever easy.
Sending you all the good vibes!
Please keep me posted.
In the meantime,
Stay Sexy. Stay Healthy.
…
I hit publish and raked my fingers through my hair. I was both exhausted and totally satisfied. The question had proven my toughest yet. I’d spent hours online, scouring through tons of articles and blogs and forums from the transgender community for advice. And after that, I’d gone to Dad. More often than not, the people who commented on my blog were questions I’d go to Mom with, but I knew I couldn’t possibly ignore my dad’s profession when it came to this one. He’d been more than eager to talk about things in a hypothetical sort of way and helped me feel much more apt to respond to the person’s question.
Because when I’d first read it?
I’d felt completely and totally unworthy.
The commenter was trusting me with such a serious and life-altering question…who was I to respond?
But my dad was a successful teen psychologist, and his advice paired with the countless research I’d done in the online transgender community had made me come alive with excitement. With knowledge. With a newfound respect and admiration for all those struggling with similar situations and having no way to know how to proceed.
And now, as I closed my eyes on a long day and finally settled myself into bed, I felt…content. Hopeful. Strong. Drawing that strength from the bravery of the person who wrote in. Who was honest with who they wanted to be in life—true to their heart. Whoever had asked the question, I hoped that perhaps they’d read the response and not feel so alone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dean
“Mr. Winters,” Mrs. Francesca said, glancing away from her computer. “You’re wanted in Principal Tanner’s office.”
Damn. Shit. Fuck.
My stomach twisted into knots as I gathered my gear, knowing I wouldn’t be back to class. Not since I had yet to produce the person behind Ask Me Anything.
Amber flashed me a confused glance, and I made a point to walk down her row when headed toward the door. I discreetly trailed my fingers along the back of her neck as I passed her seat, the momentary contact almost enough to kill the anger and guilt eating my insides.
I hated keeping this secret from her, but I knew it was for the best. I wouldn’t directly lie to her. If she asked me why Tanner was demanding my time, I would have to be honest with her. I just hoped she wouldn’t push the issue. We both had enough on our plates; me prepping for the TOC, which was now only two weeks away, and her working tirelessly on her end of our little challenge. I knew she would win. Because the idea I’d had planned? Well, it no longer worked with Tanner holding my baby sister’s school records over my head.
I’d also been contemplating ripping Tessa a new one—but I always decided against that, too. She’d gone and ditched our second brownie night session early—and her stomachache saved me from blurting out a lecture. Somehow, I’d find a way to talk to her, but it would have to be after the anger settled.
Mrs. Francesca waved me off as I gently shut the door behind me, dragging my feet like I wore lead shoes. I contemplated not showing up at all, but then who knows who he’d target next in order to control me. Probably Amber, since she was the other most important girl in my life who happened to be a Wilmont student. That couldn’t happen. We were too close to putting this place in our rearview.
Mere weeks until acceptance letters were mailed.
Ms. Howard flashed me an encouraging look as I walked toward Tanner’s closed door. A few knocks and he’d ushered me inside. Another shut door. Another secret session.
Can’t wait till graduation.
A few weeks and I could stop worrying about his role in my acceptance to MIT. Hopefully I’d have cleared Tessa by then, too. But I had to tread lightly. And succeed here.
One step at a time.
“Have you discovered the source?” Tanner asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he took a seat behind his desk.
I had tried and failed miserably.
I furrowed my brow, clutching the bag on my shoulder. “No. It’s complicated. Whoever is behind this knows what they’re doing.”
His eyebrows rose at my tone. “Sit down.”
I sighed, sinking into the chair he indicated.
“I thought you were the most talented, promising computer science-bound student in the district, let alone Wilmont Academy.”
I cocked a brow at him. “I am,” I said.
“Then who is behind this blog?”
“I don’t know.” I smacked my hand on the armrest of the chair.
He shifted in his seat. “I don’t have to remind you of what is at stake here, do I?”
I sat, frozen, trying like hell not to lose it on him.
“Perhaps I do,” he said, reaching for the mouse on his desk. A few clicks and he turned his desktop screen toward me.
A small vid-box popped up, the black-and-white images grainy but unmistakable.
Tessa.
Slipping Tanner’s laptop under her sweater and leaving with it in a hurry.
I cut my eyes up to the top right-hand corner of Tanner’s custom-built bookshelves that lined the wall behind him. The same angle in which Tessa’s prank-gone-horribly-wrong had been captured. A small, barely noticeable red light blinked from behind a mess of green leaves—a potted plant he had on the highest shelf.
“Are you allowed to have that thing recording while you have students in your office?” I asked, my eyes returning to him.
He ignored me, clicked on the vid-box, fast-forwarding a few hours to when Tessa returned the laptop to its original place on the shelf behind him.
A few hours. That’s it.
I wondered how bad the “crime” actually was. Hell, when Sean had been a senior, a bunch of them had stolen Tanner’s car and put it on the football field. No one went to jail over that, so why should Tessa over this?
He didn’t press charges.
Not like he would now. Because he needed something from me.
“Please feel free to set up your work station here,” he said, motioning to the wide-open space on the opposite side of his desk.
“What?”
“You’ve been excused from classes for the remainder of the day,” he said, exiting out of the vid-box and inadvertently revealing where he kept it stored.
Perfect. I’ll get that later.
He leaned back in his seat as I rolled my eyes, reluctantly slipping my laptop out of its bag. “You know that’s illegal, right?” I spared a glance at the camera hidden in the plant before cracking open my screen.
Tanner grumbled. “The person behind this blog is harming people.”
“Is it, though?”
He raked his hands over his slick hair. “The parents are calling for action. Protests have been held, and there is talk of pulling students from school and enrolling them elsewhere next year—”
“Ahh,” I cut him off. I didn’t bother to look up from my screen as I talked. “So that’s it. Forget about the content and how it bugs you, it’s actually about you getting docked points from your precious ranking. Which,” I said, finally meeting his gaze, “no doubt will lose you any bonuses or grants or awards. Perhaps even your job?”
“My first concern is this school and the students’ education within it,” he said through clenched teeth.
I scanned his walls, noting the various awards he’d had custom-framed. The pictures of his father and grandfather before him, plaques with their names and their tenure years at Wilmont engraved upon them. “Right,” I said. “It doesn’t make what you’re asking me to do any less illegal.”
“And how is that different than any other time you’re doing…whatever it is you hackers do?”
I choked out a dark laugh. He was right about there being plenty of rules we bent, vulnerabilities we exploited—but I always patched those vulnerabilities behind me. I never allowed anyone to follow my tracks and I was responsible enough to never use it for black-hat stuff. I had a code and I abided by it, but each word out of Tanner’s mouth made me want to take my code and set it on fire. Show him just how many things I could do.
“Code Club is officially canceled,” he said after the silence between us filled the room. “You’ve done well with the school’s site and will be excused from that maintenance as well.”
I kept my face even, but a small part of me mourned the loss. It had never been a Code Club. It was Amber’s and mine. A space of our own. A chunk of time dedicated solely to our passions.
“Fine,” I said, shrugging like it didn’t bother me. In reality, it didn’t. Amber and I were together now; I could see her whenever I wanted. That was a bright ray of hope out of all this twisted darkness.
He stood up, slowly rounding his desk, his eyes on my screen. The one I’d filled with a code box completely irrelevant to his demands. Not that he could read the program language. He pressed the tips of his fingers next to my gear as he leaned down, his face too close to mine.
“Find the source, Mr. Winters. Or I’ll be sure to use the footage I have to press full charges against your sister.”
I narrowed my gaze, never flinching from his too-close presence. “I’ll find it,” I said. “But as I’ve told you for weeks, this kind of hack takes time.” And I sure as hell had dragged it out, waiting until I found the perfect moment to put an end to his downright tyranny.
Tanner stood, re-buttoning his suit jacket and slipping on the agreeable mask he donned on the reg. “Understandable,” he said. “If it takes you longer than normal hours today, I’ll be happy to stay late. And excuse you from classes tomorrow.”
I gaped at him. “And the work I have to hand in in order to graduate?”
“You’ll have to make it up.”
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
Now he wasn’t only threatening my sister but my freedom.
You’re fucking with the wrong guy.
I swallowed the words I wanted to say, instead nodding like the good little student he wanted me to be.
He bought it, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “You see?” he asked. “Once you understand that my interests are your best interests, it makes everything so much simpler, doesn’t it?”
Another nod.
He sighed. “That’s all I ever want. Ever think about,” he said, almost like he was speaking to himself now. “For Wilmont students to understand how the real world works. I push you all so hard in order to prepare you for what is to come. My students, past, present, future, they all have one thing in common.”
“What is that?” I asked, trying to keep the bite from my tone.
He blinked a few times, glancing down at me. “They’re winners, Mr. Winters. They learn to succeed. No matter what the cost.”
Or how you push them there.
Because that’s how he operated. He was talking about himself. He did whatever it took to succeed—to earn his top rankings, his bonuses, his awards, and raises, and all the things that blinded him to what should be most important…his students. Their mental and physical education. Their emotional nourishment, and everything Ms. Howard strived to be.
Not him.
Never Tanner.
I stared up at him, wondering for the first time ever if he’d always been this bitter, solely-focused-on-himself person, or if he had once dreamed of being a principal. Of being in charge of so many young minds throughout the decades. Had the power corrupted him? Or had he been corrupted and sought the power himself?
“I’ll check on you in a few hours,” he said, turning toward his door. “And don’t worry,” he continued. “I’ll personally let Ms. Henderson know that Code Club is done.”
I ground my teeth as he shut the door behind him.
It didn’t matter—if he’d ever been good or not.
He wasn’t now, and his abuse of power had gone on for far too long.
Question of the Day
ManofSteel4419 asks: “Last year, one of my older brother’s friends took things too far at a party. We were both drunk and she advanced. I was shocked, tried to tell her I was… Fuck me, this is hard. Tried to tell her I was a virgin and had a girlfriend (she was away on a family trip the night of the party). She forced herself on me. I tried to stop it, I did…but the alcohol didn’t help and she overpowered me.
The next morning, she acted as if I asked for it. Wanted it. That she’d done me a favor by ‘making me a man.’
Anyway, that’s not the point. My girlfriend and I…things are going great. But I still haven’t told her. And she’s brought up the idea of taking things further in our relationship. I’m worried if I tell her about what happened, she’ll either think I wanted to be with the college chick and I cheated on her, or that she’ll see me as weak because I couldn’t stop it. Is it better to pretend it never happened?”
I know people say “I know how you feel” all the time and sometimes don’t truly mean it, but I do. I understand the concern, better than I like to admit. And it makes me sick to my stomach that you think the events that occurred weren’t “the point.”
It is the point.
It’s a moment in your past that is directly affecting your future. And it wasn’t your fault. It doesn’t matter how drunk you were or if you’re a boy, girl, or anything in between—no means no. I can’t believe the word is such a difficult concept to understand to so many people out there. And you’re not weak—I hate that there is a universal misconception that men can’t be raped, because they can. And it’s unfair to say otherwise when something like this occurs.
No one asks to be violated.
No one wants to have their trust broken.
But it happens. All too often.
You are not alone. I feel your pain and your concern over telling the t
ruth to your partner. The real question is: what do you want?
You have absolutely no obligation to tell anyone about your past. It’s your business, but it may feel better to talk to someone about it. If talking here with me is enough to lighten the burden of the past, then wonderful. If you feel the need to share it with your partner, then do so with confidence not guilt. This wasn’t your fault, and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re weak. Anyone who would think that isn’t worth your time. I know that is hard to hear, but it’s true. Especially after what you experienced, you have to surround yourself with people who love and respect you—family, friends, and partners alike. There is no foolproof way to guard yourself, but one step is by knowing who respects you for you and who is a fleeting person passing through.
Whether you decide to tell her or not, I would recommend getting tested for STDs before you move forward sexually with your girlfriend or anyone else. It will protect not only your partner but help keep you aware of your body as well.
I hope you find comfort and closure as you move forward.
Whether you decide to tell her or not…
Know that you are not alone.
Know that you are not damaged.
Know that you are worthy.
I wish I could say with certainty that the events of the past will be forgotten, but I can’t. I can only be here to listen with true understanding, and hope for you to find your breath again.
I’m here. Anytime you need to talk.
And in the meantime,
Stay Sexy. Stay Healthy.
…
My hands shook as I clicked the keys to publish the post.
Not as much as they would’ve when I first started the blog, but the adrenaline was still there. The cold still snaking through my veins as I carefully responded to his post. I had to swallow the anger over the situation, the rage that begged me to shout in all caps and swear words and go on an attacker-burning mission.
