Identity

by Zoë Blade

this year, and here shewas with a flat chest and an unsightly bulge in her knickers. It washideous. Her skin crawled just thinking about it.

  "Those pills you're taking are just a temporary measure," her mothercontinued. "They're delaying your puberty, but you can't take themforever." Her mother's voice became unusually soft and quiet. "You'regoing to have to make a choice."

  "What kind of choice?" asked Faye, her eyes still fixed on the floor.She could feel them welling up already.

  Her father piped up. "We can give you some other pills that will giveyour body the oestrogen it ought to be producing. They'll make youlook more like your friends, you know, put some weight on your hipsand..." he glanced at her chest, unable to be so blunt to his owndaughter. "...other places." He quickly changed the subject, adding,"But you'll have to meet us half way, you understand, and start eatingproperly."

  Faye looked up at him, hope in her eyes. He looked blurry behind hertears.

  "Plus, you know... we've been saving away since your birth. I knowChristmas and your birthday have always been lean, but you'd be able tohave an operation to fix..." he glanced down at her groin. "...youknow."

  "Really? You mean it?" Faye sniffed.

  "There is another option," her mother pointed out. "I don't want topressure you into anything, but it would mean your body wouldn't be soscarred. You could use the money to go to college, and you could evenhave children one day. It _would_ be nice to have grandchildren."

  Her father gave her mother a look that silenced her.

  "What do you mean?" asked Faye, her eyes darting from her mother to herfather.

  "There's a new operation you can have." Her father shifted in hisseat. "They came out with it a few years ago."

  "It's perfectly safe," assured her mother. "Lots of girls with yourcondition have had it."

  "What kind of operation?" Faye didn't like the sound of this at all.

  "It would mean you wouldn't mind your body so much." Her mother lookedhopeful. "In fact, you'd welcome its growth."

  Faye tried to work out what her parents were getting at. "What kind ofoperation?" she repeated.

  "It has something to do with the way the brain's wired up," said herfather.

  "Brain surgery?" spluttered Faye, shocked that her parents couldsuggest such a thing.

  "You'd still be you," assured her mother.

  "For the most part, anyway," corrected her father.

  "Oh, stop scaring her!" scathed her mother. Facing Faye again, sheadded, "You'd still be the same person. You'd just be... well... aboy."

  Before Faye knew what had happened, she'd dashed out of the room. Sheran up the stairs, their outline a blurry mess behind her tears, andslammed her bedroom door shut before flopping onto her bed, her eyesburied in her arm.

  When she finally let herself sob uncontrollably, it was a relief in away. She just let go, letting the pain wash over her. The pile ofsoft toys by her side offered no comfort, their presence suddenlyseeming childish. As much as her parents kept on saying how much theyloved her, she got the feeling all her mother really cared about washaving grandchildren.

  "So what did you think of him?" asked Rebecca as she sat on her bed,her back against the wall.

  "Who?" asked Faye. She made an effort to stop gawking at her bestfriend's perfectly curled tresses as she snapped out of her daydream.

  "_James_," said Rebecca, slightly jerking her head forward to show herfrustration.

  "Oh." Faye took the silver disc out of her pocket and handed it toher. "Thanks."

  "You're not getting out of the question _that_ easily!" Rebecca tookthe disc and put it on a stack on the shelf next to the bed.

  "I dunno." Faye shrugged. "He's OK, I guess."

  "Just _OK_?" asked Rebecca in disbelief.

  "It's not like I wanna have his babies or anything," said Faye.

  "Geez, you don't like Toby, you don't like James, who _do_ you like?"Rebecca scrunched her face up for a split second.

  "I like you," pointed out Faye.

  "Yeah, but not _like_ like. Not like you like boys."

  Faye made an effort to look away from Rebecca's soft cheeks and herperfect lips. "What's meant to be so good about boys, anyway?"

  "They have their moments," said Rebecca. "Some of them do, anyway.Maybe not the ones in _our_ class, but once they're a bit older, maybe."

  "Sounds like a long wait." Faye kept her gaze on the floor.

  "They just take a few more years to grow up, is all. Give them awhile, you'll see. Besides, if you didn't like boys, who _would_ youlike?"

  "Faye!" called Rebecca's mother from downstairs. "Your mother's here!"

  "I'd better go." Faye stood up. "Thanks for the Fryer episode."

  "That's OK." Rebecca looked at her the same way she looked atcaterpillars and butterflies, her eyes focused with well meaningcuriosity. For a second, Faye forgot to worry about the choice she hadto make and about deciding how much she could tell Rebecca and just letherself get lost in her smile.

  Faye stared up at her familiar posters of female rock stars as she laydown on her bed in deep thought.

  On the one hand, she didn't want to die. She figured the person who'drecover from the brain surgery, however nice he might be and howeverhappy he might become, simply wouldn't be her. Sure, he'd resemble herlike a brother might and he'd keep her memories as a strange sort ofmemento, but he'd have different drives, different ambitions, adifferent outlook on life. Wouldn't he?

  Besides, she couldn't bear the thought of giving a complete stranger,someone who didn't even exist yet, all of her emotional baggage. Thememories of trying to cope with her birth defect, of trying to makesense of it, and of being constantly bullied at school because of herdifferences... she didn't even want this knowledge herself, and thethought of crippling someone else with it made her cringe.

  On the other hand, someone else would have a much better chance ofactually being happy. He'd still inherit her psychological scars, butnot the dozens of physical ones that the necessary surgery would giveher. Maybe her childhood would seem as distant and unreal to him as aDigitac episode did to her.

  So it boiled down to a choice between growing up to be a woman with lowself esteem and a malformed body, and donating the rest of her life tosome boy who--strange memories aside--might actually qualify asnormal. His life would certainly be easier than hers, especially if healso wanted to date girls.

  She grabbed her pillow, hugged it and curled up into a ball. Why didthis have to happen to her? She was just a girl trying to lead anordinary life.

  In the end, she finally made a decision. She was pretty sure it wasthe _wrong_ decision, but she didn't know what else to do. At leastthis way, she'd stop being such a burden and an embarrassment toeveryone.

  "This is your last chance to change your mind," said the doctor in asoft, sympathetic voice. He put his hand on hers. "Are you sure youwant to do this?"

  Faye looked down at their hands. Her wrist was encased in a light bluebracelet with her name and date of birth printed on it. They'd soonhave to change it, she realised.

  Of course I'm not sure, she thought. Was anyone? She held back atear. "Yes, I'm sure," she said, nodding. She just wanted to get itover with.

  * * *

  David opened his eyes. A blurry white light filled the room. Slowly,everything came into focus. He was lying on a hospital bed, soakedwith sweat. A fan was perched on the table next to the bed, blowing agentle breeze of fresh air into his face. He looked around. There wasa bag with a liquid in it suspended above him, with a tube running downto his arm. He found a mirror on the table, next to the fan, andpicked it up. Holding it in front of his face, he gazed at hisreflection.

  It was the same as it had always been, of course, except that wherelong, frizzy hair used to be, there was now a tightly wrapped bandage,stained with blood. It was clearly the face of a young boy staringback at him. For the first time, he wasn't repulsed by
it. It wasn'tlike looking at a stranger he grudgingly had to put up with. It wasmore like... he thought about this. It didn't really feel likeanything at all. His reflection didn't provoke any kind of emotion inhim. It wasn't good, it wasn't bad, it was just who he was. That hadalways been the problem with Faye, though: not that her body was _bad_,just that it simply wasn't who she was.

  He could remember everything. Not just Faye's actions, but herinnermost