Chapter 1: One Shot

I could tell you what a wonderful day it was- how nice the weather was, the softness of the breeze, the beauty of careless clouds ambling across the afternoon sky…

Also, If I could, I would tell you about this quaint little restaurant by the beach- its multicolored umbrellas in blues and pinks and whites, the feeling of the weird metallic plastic of the outdoor benches, the smells of fresh food, a scant few feet away from me.

But as much as I want to focus on these things, to nail them down and pin them to my fridge as momentos, that’s not the kind of time I’m having. In fact, despite the lovely weather and the gentle embrace of a nice day, I am feeling pretty out of it. Even as I try to really feel rooted in my surroundings, my focus seems to slip off of the details, like I’m watching a movie with bad editing, but it’s real life.

The nerves are somewhat warranted, I’d say. After all, I’m seeing an old friend today. We haven’t seen each other in person in five years, going on six. Honestly, it’s my fault, I’ve been so distant and weird and where is she? she’s late and-

Oh, is that a notification? Is that the pavlovian ding of a message in my chat client of choice on yonder cellular telephone?

---

Lana Lana Bo Bana: heyyyyyy

Lana Lana Bo Bana: hey JJ

---

Ah, yeah, it’s her. Good. Getting a text from her soothes the nerves, for sure. 

Also, thank god for her nickname for me (and thank god it’s a shortening of my username instead of my actual name). I can’t imagine the additional strain of having to read my garbage awful no good name on a text with the stress I’m already under.

---

Just a Jamboree!: What’s up?

Lana Lana Bo Bana: just here to say im almost there

Lana Lana Bo Bana: ik im late its my bad 

Lana Lana Bo Bana: go ahead and order an appetizer or something if you need to

Lana Lana Bo Bana: also unrelated but i’m kinda super nervous lol

Lana Lana Bo Bana: and if i know u you’re one hundred percent freaking out rn

Just a Jamboree!: I am not freaking out right now!

Just a Jamboree!: Though…

---

I have nothing to be nervous about. I have nothing to be nervous about. Everything’s cool, everything’s normal, why would I be nervous? Sure, it’s been a few years since we’ve met up in person, but…

I mean, I kind of have a lot to explain. It might be difficult for Lana to recognize me at first, or even at all. After all, one of the many upsides (complicated as said upsides may be) of this… situation… is that I look totally and completely different.

---

Lana Lana Bo Bana: dont u trail off like that on me JJ

Just a Jamboree!: Okay, okay.

Just a Jamboree!: So.

Just a Jamboree!: I.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: engine stalling noises oh would u listen to that! that’s u, right now, stalling 

Lana Lana Bo Bana: color me shocked and aghast 

Just a Jamboree: Be patient. This isn’t exactly simple to talk about.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: what are u going into witness protection and this is the last time we ever can see one another

Lana Lana Bo Bana: are you moving overseas to marry a rich milf 

Lana Lana Bo Bana: details, JJ. gotta have em or my imagination will run wild  

Just a Jamboree: Okay, okay. Yeah.

Just A Jamboree!: I don’t exactly look like I used to, is the point.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: what did u finally dye your hair like u said u wanted to

Lana Lana Bo Bana: B/c like you would rock the pink hair tbh

Just A Jamboree!: Not quite. It’s more…

Just A Jamboree!: Complicated than that. Consider it an advanced makeover.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: !

Lana Lana Bo Bana: fuck yes

Lana Lana Bo Bana: i bet you’re feeling really self conscious abt it

Just A Jamboree!: Yeah, a little bit.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: i get it, but also

Lana Lana Bo Bana: trust me

Lana Lana Bo Bana: change is good as hell

---

Huh. 

I guess I have changed a lot, haven’t I? I mean, since the incident at work. Like, look. See? There’s me. See all that? The soft face, the softer skin, the long, well-kept hair? Or, how about the smile, or the longer legs, or the… the breasts? 

…And to think I have a faulty polymorph scroll to thank for it. 

I definitely don’t look bad, but I don’t want to say I look good, either. You know, this whole thing was an accident, and I feel this weird awful pang of guilt whenever I think about it, so I don’t want to revel in it or anything. 

---

Just a Jamboree!: I mean, you’re right. Change can be very positive.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: yeah ofc i’m right, i’m literally always right 

Lana Lana Bo Bana: name one time i’ve been wrong abt anything, period 

Lana Lana Bo Bana: trick question you can’t and trying is a sucker’s game 

Just a Jamboree!: I’m 100% sure you’ve been wrong at least once.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: yeah well 

Lana Lana Bo Bana: maybe turn that confidence dial down a few notches

Lana Lana Bo Bana: see how it feels to have that resting at a lower number like say 

Lana Lana Bo Bana: oh idk

Lana Lana Bo Bana: zero :3c

Just a Jamboree!: Oh no, you’ve done your kitty face at me, what will I ever do?

Lana Lana Bo Bana: do as i say b/c i’m strong as hell and smart and also VERY cute

Just a Jamboree!: Hmm…

Just a Jamboree!: I don’t know…

Lana Lana Bo Bana: c’mon JJ i believe in u 

Just a Jamboree: I’ve come to a decision on the matter.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: oh? whats the verdict? 

Just a Jamboree!: No. 

Lana Lana Bo Bana: THAT’s it

Lana Lana Bo Bana: it didnt have to be this way but you asked for it

Lana Lana Bo Bana: im breaking out the big guns

Lana Lana Bo Bana: observe, foolish mortal, and cower at my secret weapon: 

---

It takes a moment for me to get the message with the secret weapon, but when I do, I can’t help but smile.

---

Lana Lana Bo Bana: >:3c

---

She makes a good point, you know.

---

Just a Jamboree!: Okay, point taken.

Lana Lana Bo Bana: yeah damn right it is

Lana Lana Bo Bana: anyhow i gotta get off the bus now

Lana Lana Bo Bana: see you in like two minutes nerd

Just a Jamboree!: See you then!

---

Okay. Yeah.

Lana is… 

Well, she’s great. For all her semi-sarcastic bragging, she is kind of the coolest fucking girl on the planet. I mean, I’m pretty sure she’s pretty much constantly showered with the affection of at least one lesbian at all times, it’s like, in her contract or something.

And, don’t go around telling people this, but I sort of envy the lesbian(s) that get/gets to shower her in affection. 

Like, that sounds weird, since I’m a guy and all, but. If you get it you get it. If you don’t, well, I don’t mean it in the creep way, I just mean it would be pretty neat to  be a gay lady and to be gay with another lady. 

And of course, thanks to the accident a week or two ago at work, I look like a woman, but you know, I’m not one. Being a guy is not about the shape of your body or genitals or chromosomes or whatever bio essentialist nonsense, it’s an internal thing to the mind and maybe soul if souls are a real thing. 

But, for the moment, most people look at me and think ‘girl’, and hell if I’m going to correct them. I always get this funny feeling when someone calls me ‘miss’ or what have you, it’s like a deep warmth somewhere in my heart. 

All that said, though, I am still a guy. And the fact that this happened to me instead of some trans woman who deserves it way more kind of sucks.

I mean, think about it. Transitioning can cost an arm and a leg! I’ve calculated the pricetag of estrogen (and the necessary anti androgen) before, you know, just because- 

Okay, no, no. It doesn’t matter why I looked into it. The point is is that it’s way too fucking expensive! And this happened to me, by accident, for free! And instead of a person who really deserved this blessing, for free, it happened to me, some cis boy nobody. 

“Urgh,” I say.

God, my voice is actually nice to listen to now. I have to adjust to this whole ‘talking doesn’t feel like applying coarse sandpaper to the insides of my ears anymore’ thing. 

Oh! Another message!

---

Lana Lana Bo Bana: hey so im here

Lana Lana Bo Bana: i dont see you anywhere

Just A Jamboree: Pink umbrella, by the front door

Lana Lana Bo Bana: wh

Lana Lana Bo Bana: OH

Lana Lana Bo Bana: you little sneak

---

And that’s when Lana sits across from me at the table.

“Hi Lana!” I squeak.

“Hey. I like the outfit,” She says, cool as a fridge full of cucumbers, “How’ve you been?”

I laugh.

“Well. Big changes, so it’s been kind of chaotic. But… good. Good.” 

She nods.

“Awesome. You know, it kind of makes sense in hindsight.”

...Wait. I can’t… I don’t get it. What does she mean?

“Uh… thanks!” 

“Yeah! Also, You’re kind of really beautiful, you know. Like. I mean, shit. Look at you.”

For no reason in particular, my cheeks and also the rest of my body feel really warm when she says that. It must be the heat, right? Or the humidity. Yeah. Definitely the humidity. 

“But, yeah, welcome to the cool girls club!”

That would feel even better if I were either cool or a girl. Sadly, because life isn’t fair, I was neither. 

“The cool girls club,” I echo.

“Yeah. The coven. The girls? The-”

“Uh, wait. Back up a minute. The coven?”

Lana chuckles.

“Yeah. At the full moon we dance naked in the moonlight and thank our deities of choice for being trans. And, hey, you’re in luck, I think it’s a full moon tomorrow night!”

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck. She-

“That’s, that’s uh, flattering, but sadly, I am not actually one of the cool girls or the coven or whatever.”

“Ah, that’s alright. Dancing naked in the moonlight isn’t for everyone,” Lana says.

“...No, I mean-”

What do I mean? 

I mean, I am not trans, obviously, that’s a fact we can establish right out the gate. Definitively and without a single shard of glass’ worth of doubt, I am a cis dude. Like. Duh. 

But, the thought of actually saying it out loud is. Terrifying. What if she hates me? 

“...But enough about that, right? What have you been up to?” She asks. 

“Nothing.”

“Despite your many efforts to convince me otherwise,” Lana says,“I don’t believe that. Even lying in bed counts as ‘something’.” 

Somehow, I swallow a lump in my throat, despite my throat being perfectly clear. It’s not like I haven’t done anything, but none of what I do is terribly interesting. What would I say? Oh, I stock shelves and sweep the floor? I’m almost a shift manager now? 

Unless she means, like, hobbies. In which case, I don’t know, I’ve started getting back into pokemon cards again? I’ve dug up my old 3DS XL and am playing through my back catalogue of DS and 3DS games?

“...I guess I’ve been playing some pokemon mystery dungeon on my old 3DS, lately.”

“The one where you play as a pokemon and save the world right? That rules!!” 

One thing I can’t quite wrap my head around is why Lana is always so nice to me, especially regarding my banal and pedestrian interests. She really, really doesn’t have to humor me. I’m just some nobody friend from high school that she’s happier and better off without. 

“...God, you want to know something funny, JJ?” 

“Go ahead.”

“I had a copy of one of those games when it first came out. And, well. I would always tell the game I was a girl. Always,” Lana laughs, “This was before I hatched, you know, back then, and I would-”

She laughs, either at herself or the memory.

“I wouldn’t actually play past the first dungeon, usually. I would reset the game, over and over, just to hear it gender me properly and to see myself as anything other than… well, you know. Totally Normal Cis Boy.”

“...But you weren’t a totally normal cis boy. You are, were, uh, you know. A totally amazing trans girl.”

“Awww! You too!”

Her smile goes from thankful to wry as she continues talking, though. Meanwhile, I am feeling… strange. Amazing? Trans girl? Me? 

No. No no no. 

“...But try telling that to middle school me, I dare you. See how that little gremlin of stink and grey form-hiding hoodies takes it. Try telling her it’s okay to like watching Sailor Moon and to have a dream of becoming a magical girl.”

You are reading story Joan at novel35.com

Wh-

But, see, that’s not her she can mean. That was me. I had those thoughts, that want. I-

No. Nevermind.

“I mean, you get it, right?” She asks. 

I mean, I kind of do. 

But, like, there has to be something separating her, a trans woman, from me, a very cis man, because otherwise we had very similar formative experiences, down to the grey hoodies that hid as much of our bodies from the world as possible.

“Yeah. Yeah. But, like, you knew, right? On some level?” I reply. Surely, she must have always known she was trans, right? That might be the line between her and I in this case. 

“Not even a little bit, JJ. Not even a little bit,” She says, “Self awareness isn’t any twelve year-old’s strong suit, but me? My closet was locked with neutron star-strong chains. Nothing was getting out of there without a little change.”

“So… what changed?”

Lana laughs.

“I met other trans people. All the rest sort of unfolded from that. When you realize that your feelings aren’t an aberration, but something many people experience, and that the line between yourself and another trans person’s experiences isn’t always so clear…”

Wow. It’s just that easy?

 She looks far too wistful about the whole thing for it to be as simple as it sounds, though. 

 Because otherwise? She is making way too much sense right now. I have to be missing the secret ingredient, the caveat that ensures that I am not like her. Being like her, being a woman, being trans, that is not allowed for me. 

“...But nevermind all that. Are you still working at that spell store?”

“Sure am! I’m almost a shift manager,” I say.

“Guess someone finally noticed that you’re a genius,” She says, “Took them long enough.”

I shake my head.

“I’m not a genius.” 

“Oh yeah? Who between the two of us rigged up a PC with trans flag colored LED lights, huh? It sure as hell wasn’t me.”

Okay, okay, she’s got me there. But surely-

“And not to mention, you can write songs!! You can sing! I can’t!”

“Oh, I don’t sing, I just-”

She narrows her eyes at me in the most friendly way a person can narrow their eyes.

“Don’t play this game with me. You sing. Even if you don’t show anyone else. The audience isn’t what makes it real.”

I roll my eyes in response.

“Alright, yeah. I sing. Whatever.”

I look at the ground, as if it has some helpful insights to proceed with the conversation. It doesn’t, since it's just the ground. Though, maybe if I look hard enough, that will change! 

Hmm.

She thinks I’m trans, that much is clear. Which is a mistake anyone could make, really, given the circumstances. ‘This depressed sadboy looks like society’s idea of a girl now, and is happier for it!’ is a narrative one would assume is a trans one. But, as cool as it would be to be trans, I couldn’t be. There’s just something different and better about being trans, that I just don’t live up to. The line in the sand is somewhere, and I fall on the wrong side of it.

I mean, this was an accident! A happy accident, all told, but…

“...Listen, I need to come clean about something.”

“Oh?” She asks.

“Yeah. So, it may seem like I’ve transitioned, but I haven’t. Not really.”

Lana gets a stern look on her face.

“Listen. You don’t have to get any medical stuff you don’t want. There’s no surgery or whatever that if you don’t get, you’re not ‘really trans’.”

I shake my head as vigorously as I can.  

“This… look. This body. It’s not a result of hormones or anything. There was an accident at the spell shop… a polymorph spell went off on me when I dropped a box full of spells when I was restocking the shelves.”

“An ‘accident’, huh? Sneaky.”

Oh god oh god oh god she’s winking at me like i’m being underhanded oh god. I need to set the record straight here.

“Not like that! It really was an accident!” 

“...Aren’t there, like, safety measures against this sort of thing?” Lana asks, as if she doesn’t believe me.

“Yeah,” I say, ”But, I don’t know, maybe the wax security seal wasn’t a perfect, unbroken circle. That can cause some serious issues.”

She takes a moment to process this. I’m one hundred percent certain that, once she’s done thinking it over and realizes that I’m cis, she’s going to be livid with me.

“...I mean, hey. I guess that’s serendipity for you.”  

I look at the ground, to avoid her smile. 

“Is that guilt I see on your face?”

With my best effort, I try to hide my face from her view. I fail spectacularly. How can I hide when I’m right in front of her? How can I wash this spot of guilt off my hands? Out, damned spot! Out!

“...So many people deserve this, and-”

“Stop.”

I stop.

“Look at me.”

I look at her.

“Were you about to say that you don’t deserve a body you like?”

“...No,” I lie, “Why?”

She exhales through her nose, in that way she does when she’s irritated or concerned about something. My money’s on irritated, between you and me.

“Because, JJ, literally every trans person I know has gone through that feeling. It’s not universal, but, like. That shame you’re feeling? That’s the cis’s bullshit keeping you down.”

Lana has the most terrifying look on her face: a soft, kind smile. She’s not supposed to be nice to me about this! Where’s the rage I deserve? 

“...Lana. Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“Why do you think I’m trans? What makes sense about me transitioning to you?”

She chuckles.

“Well, do you remember those RPs we would do over skype dms? Back when skype was what we used?”

Fuck. Did she have to bring that up?

“Yeah, sorry to embarrass you, but like. You would make characters that would be ‘cursed’ to turn into girls via some magic or what have you, and even though you were the writer of these characters, you had pretty much full control of their fate, they would always end up having fun and choosing life as women. Or, or, like, I don’t know, the classic ‘boy gets chosen to be a magical girl’ thing, too. No matter what, they would always end up liking being girls more.”

I-

Well…

Being a girl is just better. That’s just a fact of the world we live in. I mean, yeah, there’s a lot of scary stuff and discrimination, but like, if offered the chance, wouldn’t every dude want to be one? To escape the shackles of coercive masculinity, avoid the devil’s bargain of ‘cut off your emotions in exchange for power’ or ‘keep emotions but become the target of the powerful’? 

“...So, I mean, looking back on it, and how much that resonated with me, you know, I kinda thought-”

She smiles.

“That’s kind of why. I do feel a little personally vindicated, gotta say.”

“But is that it? Surely there’s more. Come on. Lay it on me.”

I don’t know why I’m so interested in her perception of me, here. Like, sure, maybe I was worse at hiding the masculine urge to be a woman than most guys, but that can’t be it.

“...JJ, are you alright? You seem kind of… sickly.”

My stomach feels like it’s floating off at sea right now, it is true. But it’s fine. It’s fine.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you, like, sure? Maybe we should get some food in you.”

“...Okay, yeah.”

She gets up.

“I’ll order us something. Back in a sec.” 

Alone with my thoughts, I feel… strange. 

I mean, something within me just isn’t settling down properly. I’ve had little episodes like this, little crises of gender, but they always calm down fairly quickly. No such luck today, I guess. 

Like, Lana isn’t right. I’m not… I can’t be trans. That’s not an option on that table. So what I pause when I look at dresses in the window of my local boutique? So what I exclusively play games as a girl when it’s an option on the table? That’s normal. None of it means anything! 

Lana returns.

“Plate of chips and salsa is on the way, and your burger is forthcoming soon after.”

“Oh. Thanks,” I say. 

She settles back into her seat.

“How long has it been since your, uh,” She clears her throat, “accident?”

“...A week.”

She raises her eyebrow at that.

“Well no wonder you’re overwhelmed! Every time my boobs get slightly bigger I get all emotional about it. A whole magic transformation in one go? That’s intense. How’s it feeling?”

Well, it is intense. But… not bad. It’s like a rollercoaster, kind of. It feels dangerous, risky, exciting. With a week behind me with this body, though, some of the day one weirdness and thrills have already worn off, as if I’ve ridden a roller coaster a few times and some of the hills are less frightening. In a way, some of the parts that were so frightening have become more like… friends. Is it scary to wake up in a body I am by no means allowed by society to have? Yeah! But…

Oh, hell, there I go again.

“It’s. A lot. I have many thoughts on the subject.”

“Makes sense,” Lana says.

I mean, this is kind of what all those silly RPs touched on, isn’t it? The joy and terror of existing in a way not allowed and yet so right, all justified by ‘it’s a curse! I’m cursed to have a face I can stand to look at and a voice that doesn’t make me want to never speak again!’. 

Is that a trans thing to think? I mean, I guess, if someone twisted my arm, I might admit that that sounds kind of like something a trans person might say. From an objective point of view, someone writing a story that deals with those emotions and finds that deeply resonant on a level beyond ‘ lol this is my nice little storey :-)’...

But that can’t be it, can it? 

I mean. 

I did rig up LED lights on my computer to have trans flag colors. No one told me to do that, and I could have chosen any three colors in the world. There wasn’t a gun to my head forcing me to copy the hex values for each individual color of the flag exactly into the program. 

Sure, it’s a nice flag on its own, but… 

But. 

“Hey, earth to JJ, food’s here.”

Somehow, in the time it took for me to space the hell out, a plate of chips and salsa arrived. Lana, being the criminal that she is, is salting the already incredibly salty appetizer. 

“You put that salt shaker back where you found it,” I say, “Don’t make it an accessory to your food crime.”

“I like salt! Is that a problem?”
“It is when you salt literally everything. I mean, hell, is it a chip, or is it a delivery system for NaCl?” 

She rolls her eyes at me.

“Someone call the Associated Press! The girl who pronounces table salt as ‘Ehn Ayy See Ell’ has problems with my taste palette!” 

Girl. Wow. 

I mean, that warm feeling I get from that means something. But, being called a girl and enjoying it isn’t necessarily a cisn’t feeling. 

“...The AP would write the most boring possible article about it,” I say, “Try a different news org.”

“No. It’s as boring and frumpy as your taste buds, so it’s perfect”

“Not wanting to oversalt everything to hell and back is frumpy and boring?” I ask, with an amused lilt to my voice. She takes a bite of her overly sodium-drenched chip and grins at me. For some reason, against all odds, I feel like grinning, too.

Lana chuckles.

“You seem happier, you know.”

“Do I?” I ask.

With another mouthful of chips, she replies. Each time she pronounces a syllable, there’s a hearty crunch to really drive her point home.

“Yeah! It’s like…”

She swallows her thoroughly crunched appetizers.

“It’s like you’re more present. More in the world. The light in your eyes is… brighter.”

“Huh.” I say.

Oh, fuck. 

I remember running into someone’s transition timeline, with photos and everything, back in high school. I’d heard of trans people in hushed tones and in jokes, like their existence was a dirty secret. But, seeing photos of someone’s progression, to see the dim light in their eyes get brighter and to overflow so after a few years, their whole body may as well have been glowing…

God, I wanted it. I saw that and thought ‘why can’t that be me?’. 

Well, why can’t it? It already happened, in a way. All it takes is to accept it. 

“Hey, JJ, I have a question.” 

“Shoot,” I say.

Lana smiles.

“Is there a name you want to use? Like, a new one? I’ve been calling you by your online username for forever, you know, and that’s cool if that’s how you want to keep it. But, uh…”

A name. 

There’s been a name that’s haunted me, like the ghost of a person who’s yet to die. It’s a name, written down in the backs of notebooks, scrawled in varying sizes of cursive and print on flashcards meant for studying in French class.

I know the shape of the name on my lips; yet I’ve never dared utter it aloud. It was, and is, my most profane and terrifying secret.

And, with a smile, I say it to her.

“Joan,” I say, “Call me Joan.”  

You know, I could tell you about what a nice day it was: the beauty of the outdoors, the joy of holding a friends’ hand, the liberating excitement of fully accepting one’s transness. 

I could do that.

Or, I could just keep on actually enjoying the nice day.