“I can’t believe it!” one kid shouted above the clatter. “The dyke was about to use the boy’s bathroom! A urinal! I bet she has a cock.”
Julian blinked. His phone buzzed. And Mr. Fisher didn’t move from in front of him. His stoic silence made Julian’s heart feel as if it were in his mouth. When Mr. Fisher leaned forward, glancing at the bathroom and then back at Julian, he knew he had been caught.
“Mr. Fisher,” he started. “I can explain. I can—”
“No, Julia,” Mr. Fisher said. “I think it is best we have a small talk in my office. Please, follow me.”
Chapter Nineteen
“JULIA.”
Each time Mr. Fisher said his birth name, it was like a heavy weight pressed against his chest. Julian sat across from him in the principal’s office, Mr. Fisher’s chair squeaking and crying under his weight. For a long time, it felt as if he were just staring at Julian, baiting him. Waiting. But there couldn’t have been more than a few seconds between the birth name and what came afterward.
“Using the opposite bathroom is a serious offense. It’s written right into the school code of conduct.”
“Okay, but on what grounds? It’s just a bathroom.”
“It’s not just a bathroom. It’s a written law, both in and outside the school. How would you feel if a man went into the woman’s bathroom?” Mr. Fisher asked, and it felt like a threat. “The bathrooms have strict gender lines to maintain privacy and safety. If a man were to walk into the women’s bathroom, he could attack her.”
“I wasn’t going to attack anyone.”
“Perhaps the same argument doesn’t go quite the same way—women are usually not the ones doing the attacking, but the victims of attacks—but we still must maintain these boundaries. This is a serious offense, Julia. You have to use the correct bathroom.”
“But I was using the correct bathroom,” he said, just barely above a whisper.
Mr. Fisher merely sighed.
“Just because Aiden is your friend does not give you the right to become his shadow, young lady.”
“You don’t get it, do you? All this bathroom stuff is nonsense. How do you expect to deal with a transgender student with this kind of bizarre rule?”
“It’s not bizarre. It’s written in the law.”
“So how do you deal with transgender students, then? How will you ever expect to have an open kind of atmosphere for them?” Julian trembled, his fear turning to anger. He had never seen a transgender person in the school. But they had to be there—they absolutely had to be. He had seen a stat online, in his early days of research, that was something like one in one thousand people. There had to be at least that many in the school.
“We haven’t had that problem. Please don’t try to pitch a hypothetical situation in order to get yourself out of this situation.”
“Not a hypothetical. I’m a boy.”
“Excuse me?”
Julian stared at his hands. This isn’t the way I wanted to do this at all. Not at all. But the day had already been torn apart. The bell for lunch rang in the lingering silence, and he sighed. He would miss class. He had already missed Maria. So he might as well keep going.
“I’m transgender,” Julian declared. “I’m a guy. I wasn’t going into that bathroom to attack or ogle anyone. I just… wanted to pee.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Transgender, yeah? I may look like a girl and be Julia down on paper, but I am a boy.”
“Most boys don’t even like to use the bathroom,” Mr. Fisher remarked, his voice desperate. When he heard the phones ringing down by the secretaries and the sudden deluge of kids who were coming to get late slips from the office, he got up to close the door. “You know that this will not stop your punishment, right?”
“It should. I wasn’t actually going into the wrong bathroom. The school should be prepared for people like me.”
Mr. Fisher tapped a pen on his desk. “Well. Have you told your parents?”
Julian shook his head.
“The guidance counselor?”
Another shake. Mr. Fisher tapped the pen louder.
“Can a doctor verify this?”
“No. Well. I’m sure they could.”
“But you haven’t gone?”
Julian shook his head, and Mr. Fisher sighed.
“Well, I need to know that this is a real case and not something you’ve made up, then, to get out of trouble.”
“Who on earth would make something like this up?” Julian asked, then quickly changed his trajectory when he saw how livid the question made Mr. Fisher. “Maria and Josie know.”
“And I’m sure they’ll tell me whatever you want them to. So I’ll need more than that.”
Julian was about to kick his chair in frustration when he remembered. “Mr. Singer.”
“You’ve confided in him?”
“Kind of. He knows not to call me Julia. He calls me J, and we talked about trans issues once before.”
“I will need more than that.”
“It’s all I have. I can’t exactly produce evidence for something I feel. But google it. Wikipedia it. I’m not the only freak out there. There are probably at least three more in this school alone.”
“I never said….” Mr. Fisher stopped. Though he wrote a few things down on a piece of paper in front of him, he didn’t make any move to google or look up the information Julian told him to. After more mounting seconds, he finally spoke again. “Okay, this is what I’m going to do. You will be suspended, because this is written in the school code of conduct. No cross-gender bathroom trips.”
“But it’s not—”
Mr. Fisher held up his hand, and Julian quieted in his seat. “But this will be expunged from your record if you can get your parents or a doctor to verify your story.”
“I can’t,” Julian said, his voice thin and desperate. Oh God. I’ve never been in trouble before. And there was no way around this, not with what Mr. Fisher was saying. “Not right now. I can’t do this. You can’t tell my parents.”
“I have to. You can tell them the trans… gender thing, but I have to suspend you. You’re lucky I don’t call the police, since this is also a law in Ontario right now.”
Mr. Fisher picked up his phone but only dialed one number, so Julian knew it wasn’t his parents. Not yet, anyway. After Mr. Fisher spoke words Julian could barely hear, he hung up.
“The suspension will be until Christmas break. But in January, after the holidays, we can review this case. Right at the start of a new term.”
Julian’s eyes went wide. That was a long suspension. The normal one for excessive lateness was one day. This was ten days. The last time Julian had even heard of a suspension like that had been with two kids who got into a fight in the parking lot, one of them breaking the other’s nose.
“That’s so long,” Julian said. “That’s not fair.”
“Think of it as the time you’ll need to tell your parents and start whatever is next for you,” Mr. Fisher said. “And think of it as time for the school to adjust. To put protocols in order.”
Julian swallowed, tasting bile in his throat. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if this is true, we can’t have you actually use the boys’ bathroom.”
“Why not?”
“Because not many will be comfortable with the idea.” Mr. Fisher tented his fingers, thinking aloud as he leaned back on his chair. “Maybe you could use the staff bathroom. I don’t know. This is all very new to me too. Could Mrs. Shelley give you any information before you leave?”
The guidance counselor. Julian snorted, then shook his head. “I don’t think she knows transgender men exist.”
“Hmmm.”
Mr. Fisher seemed genuinely concerned, which confused Julian for a moment longer. He wanted to be mad. He wanted to be so, so mad. But the longer he sat in this chair and the more he watched this fifty-year-old man fumble and tap his pencil and be utterly useless, he began to feel a
lmost sorry for him. Almost, though. He was still suspending Julian for something so stupid—but even that began to seem more and more like a blessing. He wouldn’t have to go to school. Maybe he really could take that time off and make arrangements, like Mr. Fisher said. It sent a chill up his spine. Arrangements. Like he was dying.
I’m not dead. I’m just… different.
“Well, I’ll solve that when I get to it. I think the best thing to think about right now is to have you get your things in order. Pack up. I can let your teachers know that you’ve been suspended and they can get your homework. I’ll get the secretary to call your mother.”
“No,” Julian said, jumping in. “Please, not her. She’s busy studying. Can you call my dad instead?”
Mr. Fisher nodded. When he extended his hand to his door, Julian knew the meeting was over. As he turned around to grab the doorknob, Mr. Fisher picked up his phone and dialed out to the secretary. Julian heard his birth name mumbled, the pronouns “she” and “her” used like nothing had transpired. Nothing had changed. Whatever relief Julian just felt from confessing was dashed to a million pieces as he closed the door behind him.
In the front foyer, as the secretary called his father and said his name over and over, Julian decided his middle name would be Nicholas. That way, the extra N of that middle initial would ensure that no matter what, people would know he was Julian. Never Julia.
“Julia?” the secretary called out. “We’ve called your father. He’s coming to pick you up in just a moment. You can go to your locker, but please come back.”
Julian nodded, but the secretary had already gone back to her typing. She probably doesn’t think I’ll run. I wonder how many kids have run? As he opened his locker, his phone buzzed again. A cascade of messages came in from Maria, most of them growing more urgent with all caps and then just pure emojis.
I’ve been suspended, Julian wrote. Sorry I couldn’t meet you. Long story. Don’t know how much longer I’ll have this phone, but I wanted to tell you I’m fine. In a way, I’ve made it to three people now.
Julian swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Mr. Fisher counted as half, for sure, especially since nothing seemed to register. Three people. Three whole people—especially since Hannah never actually counted. She had just been sad her friends were dating and she was left out. Julian sighed, wishing he had kept his cool earlier. If I had, none of this would have happened.
Oh God, Maria texted back. I’ll come and get you. I’ll find you and we’ll run away.
Julian smiled. It sounded good—really good—but he told her no. I’ve still got a lot more work to do. I’m sorry if I can’t talk for the next few days. Or go to the party. Crap.
We’ll find a way, mi novio. I always do.
Julian hoped this was true for both of their sakes. He sent her a couple more messages, a couple more reminders about how much he did care for her (but not love, he told himself, not yet), and then he pocketed his phone and headed back to the office.
When his father showed up fifteen minutes later with a grave look on his face, he didn’t even say Julian’s birth name aloud. He merely checked in with the secretary, took Julian to his car, and then drove home in silence. Julian never thought he’d miss his birth name being spoken aloud. But now he did.
Chapter Twenty
“SHE DID what?” Sarah practically shrieked from the kitchen.
“Calm down, Sarah,” Damien said. “This is an odd situation.”
“What do you mean? There is not much gray area as far as bathrooms are concerned. You use the proper one. If you don’t, then something is very wrong.”
“Exactly,” Damien said. “We’re looking at this from the perspective that J has done something bad. But what if she was just trying to get away from someone?”
Sarah was quiet for a moment. Julian sat on the stairs, creeping closer during the gaps between their yelling. He was now halfway down the stairs, his back arched so he could spy between banisters. He had been like this for about fifteen minutes, since his mother got home from the library. His dad had never gone back to work, but they didn’t talk. At all. Damien asked for Julian’s phone, like he expected, and was about to ask for the laptop in Julian’s room when he seemed to remember that Julian did homework on that. So Julian had gone to his room and waited, listening to music over and over again, until his mother came home. He couldn’t take his eyes off the fight that was unfolding in front of him, even though it hurt, because it finally meant someone was talking about what had just occurred.
“What if she was attacked at school?” Damien added when Sarah had been quiet for a while. “What if that’s the reason she was inside the other bathroom?”
“Why didn’t she tell us, then? Or the school principal?”
“Well, I never really liked Mr. Fisher. He treated Aiden like crap. And he was really, really vague on the phone—so was the secretary. Basically told me that Julia went into the boys’ bathroom and didn’t want to leave, so she needed to be removed from school for a few days. But he did say that we could come back before the term started to sort out anything in this matter.”
“What? What does that even mean? Why didn’t you press him more? And why wasn’t I called too?”
Sarah gasped. Then Julian heard the scuffle of his father stepping forward to comfort her. From his place on the stairs, he saw his mother’s chin against Damien’s neck and his hands moving rhythmically up and down her back. Just like I did with Maria.
“Shhh. It’s fine. I didn’t think it would matter if I was called instead of you. I just wanted to get everyone home and away from the school, especially if it did turn out that she was attacked.”
“Why wouldn’t Mr. Fisher—or Julia—mention it?”
“Because she’s scared. Simple.”
“But this isn’t logical. If she was being attacked by a guy, then she would not be safe there.”
“Not all attackers are male, Sarah. You know how vicious women can get.”
“But they usually use words. Emotional abuse. You just shut that out and not listen.”
“Not anymore. You realize how big this online harassment is becoming? It’s obscene. Have you heard of Amanda Todd?”
Julian blinked. He knew who Amanda was, and he felt so bad being compared to someone who had actually suffered. His skin felt tight just thinking that this had been the reason why his father hadn’t talked to him on the car ride home. He thought I was scared. He thought I had been attacked. I just wanted to use the bathroom. Oh no.
Julian ran his hands over his legs. He wanted to walk downstairs and tell them the truth, especially since his version of events was so benign. I just wanted to pee. But then he stopped chastising himself, thinking of Josie. It’s not the Oppression Olympics. Just because he hadn’t suffered like Amanda Todd had didn’t mean what was happening to him was any less unfair. He was being punished and forced into this corner by Mr. Fisher. Tell your parents, or you’re in trouble. And as much as Julian wanted to tell them, being in a corner like this only made him want to run farther and farther away.
“I just don’t know what to say,” Sarah said, once Damien had given all the details about Amanda Todd. “Why did she run? Doesn’t she know she could come to us for help? If something bad happened to her… I want to know. We can help. Right?”
“I’d like to think so. But it’s hard. Different.” Julian heard the soft swell of cushions as they both sat on the couch. “I don’t know, Sarah. The world that kids live in is different than what we grew up in. We may see all these things that relate to J, but we may never really know her. We may read the same books but get something completely different out of them.”
Julian smiled. He sank down a step, still straining to listen.
“It’s especially hard to be a girl, I think. She is thrown to the wind so much as far as expressing herself is concerned. You remember the school photo fiasco.”
“Oh yeah. Don’t remind me.” Sarah sighed. Paused. Julian thought the convers
ation was over then, without a real ending, when Sarah turned and said, “So what do we do?”
“We should talk to her. But maybe when she’s ready. Should she see a therapist?”
“Maybe. I just… don’t feel as if I know Julia anymore. I feel as if she’s left us.”
“Yeah. I feel the same way too, sometimes. So maybe a therapist would be a good idea, no matter what’s happened today. Maybe….”
Damien went on, listing possible options about counselors and when they could organize something, but Julian didn’t want to listen anymore. They want to bring Julia out again, but she never existed. She’s not there. Julian gathered himself from the steps and closed the door to his bedroom instead.
A SMALL knock came on his door shortly thereafter. “Can we come in?”
Julian paused his music, then closed the computer. He realized about fifteen minutes ago that his parents had cut the Wi-Fi, so he could do homework but not surf.
“Sure. Come in.”
Sarah smiled as she entered, though her eyes were still the kind of glassy they got from allergies or crying. “Hey. How you doing?”
“Missing the Internet.”
Damien snorted. “Sorry about that, J. Just wanted to be sure about some things before we turn it back on.”
Julian nodded, his skin growing tight on his body. As his mother sat down in a desk chair, his father remained standing by the doorway. Julian stayed on his bed, his legs crossed.
“I’ll need the Internet if I want to get my homework done. Especially since I still have a few more things to do before the official break. Did the school talk about my homework at all? Or am I arranging that?”
“We can talk about that in a bit,” Damien said, his voice taking on the more political tone Julian recognized from his job or when he watched him on the local news channel. “For now, I think your mom wants to ask some things.”
The Santa Hoax Page 17
