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Written
by: “Irene
Naridza”
IA PIC
MADE BY HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator
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Today
I didn’t want to get out of bed. I felt very tired and didn’t feel like doing
anything. Mom came to check on me earlier and said I was fine. She hit me with
a pillow and told me to stop lazing around. But I stayed in bed a little longer
until I got hungry. Mom only brings me food in bed when I’m seriously ill.
While
I was eating bread with orange juice, Mom suggested that we should go buy a
couple of things for the school year. It’s already been a few weeks since the
new school year started. I haven’t needed anything new because I still had
leftover supplies from last year. I didn’t need new notebooks since now the
teachers have us work with loose sheets. It’s easier for them to carry and
grade.
I
had one notebook where I took notes, but that one is almost full. My pens have
lasted for quite some time. I’ve been lucky to avoid having them stolen. But
now they barely have any ink left. My pencil is about 4 centimeters long, but
it’s still useful. My eraser used to be big, and now it’s the size of a
sunflower seed.
Mom
said she’d like to go with me to buy the things I need, but that she’d be busy
organizing some documents for work. It’s a pain that sometimes they call her in
on Saturdays, but those are the things she has to deal with in her new,
better-paying job.
Then
she started rambling, suggesting that I should get a better hairstyle, that I
should buy nice clothes, and those kinds of things that, I have a feeling, must
fit into that version of “Nadia” she wants me to be. I don’t know if I should
go against her on that. Since this all began, she seems more cheerful, and I
like that. But I wish I had more room for “Nathan.”
She
gave me money and told me to go buy whatever I needed at the mall. Today I
didn’t want to go out as Nadia despite everything; I thought it would be fine
if I went out as a boy. Besides, I can only go out as a girl when Mom takes the
car out of the garage. If I suddenly walked out that door and took the bus
looking like Nadia, I’d rather the ground swallow me whole before those idiots
started harassing me.
I
put on a black tracksuit. It’s like the sportswear some people use for running,
but it’s not for running, this one is more casual. I tied my long hair into a
ponytail and pulled it through the hole in the cap I put on. I don’t have a
wallet, only that purse Mom gave me. Carrying money, house keys, my phone, and
my ID loose in my pocket turned out to be more uncomfortable than I thought.
While
I was waiting at the bus stop, I had to put up with the noise of two other boys
from my neighborhood. They were talking about sports while playing with a ball.
Nothing wrong with that; that was my routine just a couple of months ago. The
problem was that they kept throwing their ball against the wall of the bus
shelter, making the structure vibrate and making a lot of noise.
I
told them to stop, and they threw the ball at me. My cap would have fallen to
the damp ground if it weren’t for my ponytail holding it in place. People in
this neighborhood aren’t very friendly. Yet Mom says it’s a lovely place.
That’s a lie. The people here are usually grumpy; it even bothers them when you
greet them in the morning.
I
think Mom says that because she spent her childhood in a slum, or red zone, or
whatever you want to call those places where the most common thing is to see
gang members stealing and selling strange powders. Whenever I complain, she
starts telling me how that place was.
The
10th of October Neighborhood — yes, it had a date for a name — was where
she grew up. Houses were very cheap, and rent was too. Except it was a nest for
all kinds of low-life people. You had to pay the gang members so they wouldn’t
break into your house or rob you in the middle of the street. Many outsiders
only came to buy those strange things, and many were mugged before they even
got there. According to Mom, gunshots were heard every day, to the point that
it became normal.
My
grandmother, may she rest in peace, raised Mom alone in that place. Mom did
know her father, but one day he just never came back home. At first, they
received letters saying it was because he owed money to the gangs. Later they
found out he had run away with a younger woman to start another family that he
probably abandoned as well—or at least that’s what Mom likes to believe.
Being
a woman, Mom was harassed in many ways. Men would try to grope her while she
waited for the bus. It’s something truly horrible, the kind of thing that makes
getting hit in the head with a ball seem almost kind.
My
bus had already arrived. I got on, paid, and went straight to the middle
seats—the best spot for a quiet ride. I watched as the streets of the
neighborhood faded away, turning into the trees and weeds of the outskirts.
What was I saying again? Oh right, that awful neighborhood. Trying to fight
back against the gang members was useless because, at the end of the day, we
lived there. They could always retaliate against anyone.
Mom
always gets emotional when she tells me about the time the gang messed with the
wrong people. That day she noticed there were more gunshots than usual and
smoke rising into the sky. Emergency services always took a long time to arrive
because of the distance. By the time the police showed up, they only found
bodies and the gang’s building burned to the ground.
My
grandmother and other neighbors went into the building, not to save anyone, but
to see what they could find of value. She found a cocoa tin full of cash and
jewelry. She took it and left. Even though the toxic fumes permanently damaged
her lungs, with that money they were able to buy the house here that Mom later
inherited.
If
I remember correctly, the gangs had messed with members of the cartel that
operated back then. Those guys are on another level in everything; power,
money, even cruelty. Once the gang was gone, the cartel took over 10 de October.
That’s why my grandmother was so desperate to leave as soon as possible.
Then
came the era of the war on drugs. Mom says it was really serious. She doesn’t
like to talk much about that period in the country. People say there was
violence everywhere. Still, in the end, the government managed to bring it
under control.
October
10, 1812. According to my history class, that was the date when Maglavir began
major trade treaties with the rest of the world. The neighborhood eventually
became abandoned due to the violence, with houses selling for the price of a
used car, but with no one willing to buy them. By the mid-90s, the government
purchased the properties and redeveloped the area, though only slightly. Later,
foreigners arrived, and they were the ones who truly changed the place.
I
reached my stop: the 10 de October neighborhood. Mom’s stories feel very
distant now. Here the bus stops are clean and well-maintained. The police
patrol the area, people walk their dogs peacefully, and trees line the
sidewalks in planters. The houses look pretty, and what stands out the most
here is the shopping mall. It’s big and has all kinds of stores.
I
walked past the spot where Mom said her apartment block stood when she was my
age. Now there’s a beautiful park. I wondered, how do you move something as
massive as a building just to make a park? Surely some later fire must have
helped.
I
didn’t come here to sell hot chocolate. It’s a vendor-free zone. To avoid
falling back into old habits, street vending was banned altogether. That was
because some people used it as a front to sell strange substances disguised as
food.
I
finally arrive at the mall. The bustle of pop music and chatter is the first
thing I hear. It takes up an entire block and has another one right next to it
just for parking. They’re building another level now, since on weekends it gets
so crowded that it’s impossible to find a spot. Mom usually sends me to save a
place by standing in a space and keep others from parking there.
Inside,
there are four floors of shops, restaurants, and even a movie theater. By the
way, I’ve never seen a movie theater here with its own building. They’re always
inside malls. In movies, I’ve seen that in the U.S. they do have entire
buildings only for theaters. Here, they do it to create popular shopping
centers.
As
soon as I walk in, I notice the heating. It’s so pleasant that I can unzip my
jacket. Only then do I realize I came wearing a pink blouse. I blush for a
moment until I remember that, with luck, no one will notice. I really hope no
one notices I’m a boy.
“Nadia, nice to see you.” Almost as if to confirm destiny or whatever
pulls the strings in my life, a couple of girls spot me from afar. Instead of
seeing a boy with a ponytail and a pink blouse, they see a girl. More
specifically, they see Nadia. It’s Olga and Jenifer.
“H-hi, girls.” I say quietly. “I’m
surprised to see you here. Normally you prefer hiding at home.” Olga
says. I never let them see me outside ballet class. I haven’t told them where I
live, only that I prefer staying home.
“What dragged you out of
your cave on such a nice Saturday?” Jenifer asks. She’s wearing a white hoodie, a
red skirt, black tights, and white sneakers. Olga’s outfit is almost the same,
except she’s wearing purple shorts instead of a skirt, a blue hoodie with
stars, and blue ankle boots. As feminine as always, far from how I look.
“I had to buy some school
supplies. But my mother couldn’t come with me.” I say, looking down. “Come on, Nadia. We’re thirteen. We can do that by
ourselves.” Jenifer says while taking my hand and pulling me along
with them. Just like that, I end up joining their group.
“My mom was busy organizing
next week’s classes. She told us to buy what we needed and have a good time
here.” Olga
says. “Are you still living at your aunt’s
house, Jenifer?” I try to match
their pace so I won’t get dragged along.
She
laughs nervously. “Well, it’s kind of
complicated, but let’s just say; yes.” she says while glancing off
to the side. “Her parents are on a business trip
and had no one else to leave her with.” Olga
explains. “We’ve been having fun hanging out
together at home.” she adds.
Before
I know it, we’ve arrived at the first store. It’s like any stationery shop next
to a school, only bigger, with pleasant music and air freshener in the air. We
go straight to the notebooks with girly designs. Olga loves the one with a
ballerina on the cover; Jenifer smiles at it too.
I’m
not really one to care much about those details. A ball or a chalkboard doodle
would be enough for me. But now, if I want to maintain this facade, I’m forced
to pick something from this section. I hesitate a bit, but finally grab a
notebook. It’s 100 pages, graph paper, with a smiling teddy bear and hearts on
the cover. If it weren’t for the pink hearts drawn in ink, I’d call it unisex, but
clearly, it’s not.
“It looks really cute.” Jenifer says. “I
have a plushie just like that at home.” Olga
adds, and we move on to another section. They grab more things like colorful
folders and sheets with butterfly borders. I managed to avoid buying them by
saying I already had some. Even for the girls at my school, having stuff like
that is considered silly and babyish. I guess at their school the atmosphere is
less hostile.
That
became even clearer when, instead of regular pens, they picked ones decorated
with ribbons, hearts, and even short phrases like ‘You’re Super.’ My
pencil used to be themed too. It had superhero images, but because of the
teasing from my classmates — back then my friends— I ended up peeling
off the plastic cover. Now I regret it.
There’s
nothing with a Super Bolívar theme. Apparently, it’s so popular that all his
merch sells out in hours. Just my bad luck. It’s not until we leave that I
realize I forgot to buy an eraser. I was about to go back when Olga put her
hand on my shoulder and handed me one of hers. “I
bought a lot. You can keep it.” she
said, giving me one shaped like a unicorn. “Thanks…” I reply, trying to hide my embarrassment.
When
I realized it, we were standing in front of a hair salon. I had already planned
to get a little haircut. It’s incredible how much it has grown with that
special shampoo Mom gave me. It’s now well past my shoulders. She bought it
from one of her friends who sells cosmetics by catalog.
I
don’t really mind going inside; despite my age, I don’t like going to
barbershops. Whenever I walk past one, all I see inside are grumpy people, the
smell of cigarettes, and rap music with awful lyrics. Hair salons are a much
cozier space. And this one was no exception. If anything, it amplified it.
The
walls were white, and pictures of women’s hairstyles covered them everywhere.
The smell wasn’t heavy with blow dryers like in other salons but rather with a
vanilla air freshener. The waiting area had a red couch with golden buttons.
Several fashion, gossip, and hairstyle magazines were laid out on the side
tables.
I
told the girls I just wanted a simple trim, but they insisted I should try
something new, even offering to pay for it. I really wanted to refuse, but Olga
put her hands on my shoulders and made me sit in a strange chair as soon as it
was free. It was padded black leather with some kind of sink attached to the
headrest.
Olga
whispered something to the hairdresser, who nodded. She came over to put the
usual cape on me and filled the sink with water. “Undo
your ponytail and get comfortable.” she
said while pulling out some bottles from the cabinet into the chair. I barely
did it in time. She started washing my hair. It was actually really pleasant; the
warm water, the massage with nice-smelling shampoo.
I
got a little too comfortable, my eyelids felt heavy. I forced them open every
time I noticed they were closing for too long. Out of boredom, I glanced to my
left. There was Olga in a similar chair, getting the same treatment. “Please, stay still.”
The woman asked in a friendly tone, so I corrected my posture.
Unable
to move much and with this taking longer than I expected, I let my eyes close.
I realized I had fallen asleep when I opened them again and found myself in the
stylist’s chair. The sound of the blow dryer and the smell of the hair
straightener brought me back. The hairdresser shifted aside, and I caught sight
of my reflection in the wide mirror with its golden frame.
I
nearly had a heart attack when I saw my new wavy hair.
“Relax, I’m almost done.” the girl attending me said.
“It was really easy to work with your hair while you were
asleep.” she added.
“It’s a perm.” Olga suddenly commented, almost making me jump. I
hadn’t noticed her come closer.
She
already had the same style, with her hair reaching down to mid-back. “Well, it’s not a real perm, but this way it will last
longer.” The smile on her face
and Jenifer’s almost made me forget how hard it would be to explain this at
school. Mom would surely cry from tenderness. But at school, they’d probably
call me names like ‘Copper Curls’ or something like that.
It
didn’t take much longer for the hairdresser to finish. “You’re all set.” she
said as she removed the cape. “Thank you so
much. It looks great.” I replied. I couldn’t stop touching my hair.
Before it just felt like… hair. Now it felt fluffier and softer.
What
did surprise me was the price: 800 maygels (20 dollars). For some reason, I
thought it would be much more expensive, though it’s still costly. Normally, I
don’t pay more than 200 maygels (5 dollars) for a regular haircut. But I
understood why. Female haircuts and styles are more complicated than men’s. Now
that I think about it, those are kind of simple… and boring.
As
promised, Olga paid for both of us. Jenifer only had a little trim. She looked
almost the same as before. They told me not to wear my cap for a while so I
wouldn’t ruin the hairstyle. I put it inside the bag with the things I had
bought at the stationery store and then we keep walking. Then, I still can’t
stop touching my hair.
I
was so distracted checking out my hairstyle in the reflections of the shop
windows that I didn’t notice where we were heading. When I saw the girls stop,
I realized we were in front of an ice cream shop. Since I didn’t use the money
on a standard haircut, I used it to treat them to ice-cream cones. It’s my way
of thanking them for the hairstyle. To be honest, it’s really cute to look at, even
more to have.
This
place, called ‘Heaven Cream’ has everything: a huge variety of flavors, an
ambiance like an old-fashioned cafe, and waitresses rolling around on rolling skates
to bring orders. Best of all, the cones are pretty cheap. That’s why there are
always customers. We sat at slightly tall tables. Olga ordered blackberry,
Jenifer strawberry, and I got bubble gum.
Something
I’ve noticed now is that girls usually cross their legs with the right over the
left. I’ve seen other men cross their legs too. I even started doing it to
blend in, until I noticed that, like other men, I was doing it almost
unconsciously with the left over the right. Now I try to correct it. It’s a
mental reminder that always pops up when I sit down.
They
started talking about ballet classes, about how we were getting close to the
time to practice for the Christmas recital, and that Madame Melody would choose
who would be under the spotlight. That’s both fascinating and terrifying.
Just
being dressed as a girl alongside a dozen girls who practice ballet every
Tuesday and Thursday afternoon already gets my pulse racing. The idea of doing
it in front of hundreds is even worse. Or at least it was. I’m not as nervous
now about them finding out I’m a boy. I look and sound like a girl. I could
easily go to the recital and nobody would think for a second that what they’re
seeing is a boy in disguise.
It’s
something weird. I can’t quite describe it. I think it’s because it would mean
committing too much. Maybe Mom will be satisfied with Nadia after the recital
and let me go back to being Nathan normally, maybe not, but that’s not the
issue. Other people would probably wonder; “What happened to
the girl who took ballet classes and even performed in the recital?”
I
kept watching Olga and Jenifer. They happily ate their ice-cream cones, taking
many things for granted and with nothing else to worry about. Me, on the other
hand… I don’t know what will happen after the ballet classes. Before, I just
wanted to forget it and move on; now I think not only will I be unable to
forget. It won’t be forgotten by others either.
I
sigh and stare into space, too much to process. Suddenly I feel something cold
running down my chest. When I look down, I see that my ice-cream scoop has
fallen on me because I wasn’t holding it correctly. “You’ve
got to be kidding me.” It feels
colder than it tastes.
Jenifer
sets her cone in the holder in the center of the table and quickly comes over
with napkins to try to clean me up, but she only smears it more. “It’d be better if you remove the ice cream first.”
Olga scolds, grabbing more napkins and lifting it off me, but it’s too late.
More than half has melted and begun seeping into my pants. Worst of all, since
my jacket was open, my pink blouse is pretty stained. It must be the dye,
because the blue stands out even against my black tracksuit.
“It feels sticky.” I say uncomfortably as I pick the remaining
ice cream off the blouse. “It’ll feel worse in
the cold outside.” Olga says,
worried. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay.” I toss the stained napkins in the trash. “Bad way to finish an ice cream.” I try to zip up my jacket, but it feels even
worse.
Olga
and Jenifer give me part of their cones, shaping a small scoop that sinks into
my own cone, which was still intact. “Thank you
so much, girls.” I say with a
slight smile. Still uncomfortable, I finish my new improvised ice cream while
they suggest I be more careful this time. “Luckily,
it didn't get in your hair.” Jenifer comments. “Don’t
even say it.” I sigh with some
relief. They
keep talking about ballet, but I’m not very enthusiastic.
When
paying, I pull one of the bills from my pocket and notice the dye has bled a
bit onto it. Fortunately, the cashier lets it slide. It’s 240 maygels (6
dollars) for the three cones.
“Maybe a change of clothes
would be the best.” Jenifer
says as we step into the wide corridor. “I doubt
it. I don’t have more clothes and not much money either.” I reply, already trying to find a way to say
goodbye. “I got it.” Olga says. “There’s
a second-hand clothing store here. It has very nice, good-quality clothes for a
low price.” She points her thumb toward the escalators. “It’s perfect… if you don’t mind wearing someone else’s
things, of course.” she adds,
nudging Jenifer with her elbow, which makes her blush.
Honestly,
I didn’t want to, but before I know it, they’re already dragging me there by
the wrist. They even help me avoid tripping as we get on the escalator. Well, I
needed some new clothes anyway.
It didn’t
take us long to get there. It looked like a regular clothing store, just with
more piles of clothes organized in stacks and with very low-price tags. That
was what convinced me. Good, pretty, and cheap clothes are always welcome.
“This place must be new. It wasn’t here the last time I came.” I said as we walked through the
aisles. There were lots of people digging through the bins full of clothes. “If I’m not mistaken, there used to be a brand-name
boutique here.” That’s true, I
remembered. Mom and I could only look from the outside display windows, and
once I almost fainted when I saw her paycheck’s worth written on the price tag
of a single simple outfit.
“That business went bankrupt, but it’s the same owners,” Jenifer said. I noticed the lady
passing by us with a cart full of clothes, dropping them off into other boxes.
She was wearing simple clothes, just a shirt and jeans. Far from the suit and
heels she used to wear. Going from fine style to something plain wasn’t exactly
an improvement, but at least she still had a business.
I tried to
find a simple outfit. Pants and a sweatshirt. Even with a feminine design, that
would be enough for me. But again, Olga and Jenifer seemed to have other plans.
“Hey, what about this?” Olga exclaimed, finding a pink and white
sweatshirt. It wasn’t bad at all. The price was tempting; only 200 maygels
($5).
I kept
looking for something else, this time more masculine. A pair of jeans was the
first thing I spotted, but another guy grabbed them right in front of me and
took them away. I didn’t care much, since the box was full of jeans. But as I
searched for another pair, I realized they were all one or two sizes bigger or
smaller than mine.
“Nadia, look at this!” Jenifer called from the other side of the aisle. I could see her holding
a pair of gray cotton tights and a long white skirt. While I thought of an
excuse to say no, she came running toward me with the clothes flapping in the
air. I was surprised at how cheap they were; only 240 maygels ($6) for both.
I ran my
hand over them out of curiosity; they were soft, clean, and didn’t smell bad.
None of the garments had brand labels, and there were slight signs of wear on
the paint of the zippers and buttons. Still, it was a bargain for the price.
“Thanks, Jenni, but I think I’ll go with another style.” I said, searching through another
box until I finally found pants in my size. “Don’t
they look a little masculine?” Jenifer asked, a little puzzled. “I can modify them later if I don’t like how they are now.” I excused myself. “Oh,
Mom’s really good at that. Whenever she can, she teaches Jenifer and me how to
transform clothes and give them a second life.” Olga said with excitement.
I nodded
silently and went to the fitting room to change, since the feeling of the
melted ice cream on me was starting to get really uncomfortable. The booths
were at the back of the store, a bit small; about the space of two school desks
and the height of a door. They had a large mirror at the back and a simple lock
on the door.
That’s when
I noticed a terrible detail. I saw the price tag on the pants. They cost 600
maygels ($15), which was way over my budget. That was bad. I stuck my head out
of the fitting booth, about to ask the girls if they could lend me some money
for the pants. I found Olga picking out clothes from the shelves and showing
them to Jenifer, assuring her they’d look great on her.
“Do you need something?” Olga asked. Her cousin turned around too, with some clothes already
draped over her arm as if she’d set them aside. The idea of asking them for
money went out the window. They looked so excited about buying their own new clothes
that if I asked, maybe they wouldn’t be able to get what they wanted.
“It’s just…” I hesitated. “Could you let me see the skirt and the tights again?” I finally blurted out. Luckily,
it came out as a suggestion and not as a plea. They couldn’t have smiled more.
And well, that’s how I ended up again holding a feminine outfit that I had no
choice but to wear.
The tights
were thick, suitable for the cold. The fabric of the skirt was too. It wasn’t
denim, but it had a texture similar to school uniforms, only thicker. The skirt
reached just above my ankles, the gray tights stood out, and the pink and white
sweatshirt fell below my waist, covering the zipper and back buttons of the
skirt, as well as a fake buckle in the front. It was a double circle, maybe the
brand’s logo.
I won’t lie.
I looked great, even though the gray tights clashed a bit. Maybe finding white ones
would be ideal, but I already had black and white ones at home. Why would I
want another pair in the same color when I could have variety? … wait… why did
I want variety in tights? These new thoughts were a little strange.
I stepped
out of the booth. Jenifer came out too, wearing a pink denim dress. Olga only
had a scarf and a hat. “You look really pretty,
Nadia.” Jenifer said, looking me
up and down. I blushed a little. “Thanks… you
look pretty too.” I returned the
compliment, still unsure how to respond properly to those kinds of things.
The skirt
had flap pockets. The button that closed them had a pearly center surrounded by
tiny crystals. I could slip my hands in up to the back. I moved all my things
from the pants into these pockets, and they filled up quickly. Fortunately, the
sweatshirt also had pockets —much bigger ones— so I wouldn’t have to
carry my phone in my hand. That’s when I realized: Olga and Jenifer had been
carrying their phones in their hands the whole time. Wow, another detail of the
feminine world.
“Hey… don’t you have a purse?” Jenifer asked curiously. “I have a handbag, but I didn’t bring it today.” I answered as I closed the pocket flaps. “There are really nice and super cheap purses here.” Olga pointed toward a corner of the store. “I don’t know. I don’t think I need one, and my budget’s
already low.” I replied, touching the pocket where I had put my
money. “It doesn’t hurt to take a look, just in
case you want to come back later.” I
thought about it for a few seconds. “You can
also put it inside your handbag for a better organization.” Olga finally convinced me.
We walked
together to that corner. There were tons of wallets, purses, and even handbags
laid out in rows on some tables. She was right. They were really cheap. Purses
ranged from 100 maygels ($2.50) to 280 maygels ($7). The handbags were more
expensive, starting at 400 maygels ($10) and going up to 1000 maygels ($25).
“Some are replicas, but others are good quality.” Olga showed me two wallets. The left
one was faded light blue, with white corners. It looked pretty worn out. In her
right hand was another one, also light blue, but shinier. It had a quilted
pattern and looked in good condition.
I carefully
took it to examine it. It had the same logo as my new skirt… wow… is strange
that I’m referring the feminine clothes as ‘mine’. Anyway. The purse had
an integrated coin pouch, a bill section, and several card slots. The slot
edges were lined with white fabric. The coin pouch clasp and the logo were also
white.
“I think I’ll take this one.” I picked the purse on the right. It was only 140
maygels ($3.50), leaving me just enough to pay for the bus ride home. It worth
it. The light blue was almost like a boy’s blue. The design was feminine, but
surely my idiot classmates wouldn’t notice.
The three
of us went to the checkout and paid for our new clothes. The cashier gave us
simple plastic bags to put our old clothes in. “You
can really tell there’s new management.”
I notice the plastic bags didn’t even have the store logo. They were
just plain white.
We went to
the lockers where we’d left the bags from our other purchases. There, I emptied
my pockets and put everything into my new purse. Everything fit perfectly, and
now it felt heavier. It was almost satisfying to see how neatly it fit into the
pocket of my new skirt. The girls
smiled at me as if to say; “Well done.” I
gave a small smile back.
I’m already
used to going back and forth in public with my ballet outfit. But that’s
usually because it’s under regular clothes. Now I’m wearing a skirt and tights
in big crowd – not to mention my new pretty, feminine hairstyle that will
last me a while – I can’t help but feel my heart racing a little.
I lift my
gaze from the ground. Many people pass by in front of me. Alone or in groups,
laughing and chatting with each other. They turn their heads just to look
straight into my eyes, and that paralyzes me, even though I know it’s only to
see where they’re walking so they don’t bump into me. There are so many people
here, but definitely, none of them are looking at Nathan. They’re looking at
Nadia.
“Come on, don’t fall behind.” Jenifer grabs my wrist again, guiding me
through the crowd. Olga buys a bucket of popcorn with chopped sausages at a
food court stall, and we sit down to enjoy it. “Something
salty is always good after something sweet.”
she says. “And the other way around.” Jenifer adds. I just nod and start picking at the
food with them.
“Hey, Nadia, if you get chosen for the recital, you’ll shut Lizbeth up.” Jenifer says before taking a handful
of popcorn. “Why?” I ask, not really following the conversation. “She’s been talking ill about you.” she says with her mouth still full. For a moment,
I freeze completely. I’m stiff, like a mannequin, long enough for them to
notice.
“Why would she do that?” I’m struggling not to stutter. I really hope she hasn’t figured anything
out I’m a boy. “I think she’s jealous.” Olga says. “Mom
usually praises your performance, while with her… she’s really clumsy.” She adds before eating another handful of popcorn.
“You’re all really talented, way more than me. Why would she focus on me
and not on you two or the others?” I wonder out loud. Olga notices the uneasiness
in my words. “Some girls are like that. They
think they have reasons to pick on you when really, you just happened to rub
them at the wrong time and place.” she
explains calmly.
“She just talks for the sake of talking. It’s not like she can actually
do anything.” Jenifer
adds. “If she tried to challenge you, she’d
probably trip before even reaching the stage.” Both burst into giggles. I laugh too, though
nervously.
Either way,
I don’t like having conflicts with a girl in ballet. I already have enough
trouble with the idiots at high-school, I don’t need problems in the place
where I’m starting to feel safer. “She always
talks behind my back? How do you even know?”
I need more details.
“She does it at our after-class meetups. The ones you never come to
because you like running home right away.” Jenifer says, making everything click for me. “Oh, those meetups.” I start to recall. The
ballet girls usually go eat at the park after class. I never joined them
because I was still dying of embarrassment about being Nadia in public, but now
that’s no longer a problem.
“So, she only picks on me because it’s easy to talk ill about me if I’m
never around.” I conclude,
feeling a bit relieved. “We tell her to shut up,
but that only seemed to motivate her even more.” Olga adds. I’m left speechless. “That’s really considerate of you.” I say, touched… they truly care about me. “That’s what friends do.” I can’t help but blush again.
Now, I’m
sure. Olga and Jenifer… they are my best friends… and Lizbeth? She’s just a
typical school bully. Still a nuisance, but not someone who terrifies me. “She can say whatever she wants, I don’t care.” That made Jenifer and Olga smile, they even
clapped for me. We chatted a little more, even after finishing off the popcorn
with sausages.
We kept
talking about how much we’d enjoy it if Lizbeth didn’t show up to the recital,
as we left the mall. Then they gave me a goodbye hug before getting on their
bus. “See you Tuesday.” Jenifer called out. I waved as I watched them
leave, then sat down to wait for mine.
I crossed
my legs, right over left. Let out an audible giggle while twirling a lock of my
new wavy hair and recalling everything that happened today. This day at the
mall has been completely fascinating.
I see my
bus arrive. Line 12, the one that goes from the mall to my neighborhood without
many delays. I take out my new purse, open the coin pouch, and pay the 15
maygels fare (about 38 cents in US dollars) I sit right in the middle, where I
can go more unnoticed. Since it’s still midday, the view out the window is
pleasant. The forest on the city’s outskirts is beautiful.
Before I
realize it, I’m back in my neighborhood. Luckily, there weren’t too many
onlookers on the street. Still, I slipped away down the path behind the houses.
Mom says that the car exit used to be back here. All the garages had doors
facing the backyard, but people remodeled them to open to the front, and now
it’s just a lonely path.
That’s when
I notice again the movement of the skirt. I’ve worn others before, but this one
is longer. Walking in a skirt is a whole experience. You can feel it swishing,
the soft fabric brushing, and the chill or warmth differently than with pants.
Honestly, it feels better.
I take
advantage of nobody watching to spin around. The skirt swirls with the air. It
feels amazing. I get why girls like doing it so much. Since I know a lot about
ballet now, I can spin perfectly without getting dizzy.
The padlock
on the garden door is thick, it screeches loudly as I open it. Finally, I’m
home, and a wave of relief washes over me. I walk through the small backyard. Most
neighbors use theirs as an outdoor storage for junk. We don’t.
“I’m back.” I yell upon entering
to make it clear it’s not a burglar. “Why are
you coming in through the backyard?” Mom asks from the living room.
She peeks down the hallway and sees me in my new clothes and hairstyle. She
freezes for a few seconds. That’s strange.
“I bought everything I needed.” I say to break the silence. Then she squeals
and runs to hug me. “You look so pretty.” she says, squeezing me. She looks so excited.
Maybe too excited. “Thanks… Mom.” is all I manage to reply.
She runs to
the living room and pulls the camera out of one of the drawers in the photo
cabinet. I know what I have to do. She hugs me from behind while the camera
timer runs out, and the flash lights up the room. We strike a few poses as more
flashes go off. Mom’s happiness in that moment is what makes being Nadia
worthwhile.
To Be Continued…
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