Two weeks ago:

Betty Bruiser sat. That was all she could ever do anymore as she awaited her death sentence to be carried out.

Her shoulders, spanning the width of the carriage, and arms stretching to the floor had been bolted to the wall: a precaution in case the collar she’d been fitted with or the tranquilizers they’d shot into her veins failed to negate her superhuman strength. Two armed guards from the Department of Corrections with enough ammunition to put down a herd of rhino kept close watch while the oddly relaxed TASK operative looked over them in turn.

There was little chance that she could escape. Even if she were to try they were still deep underground and at least two thousand miles from the nearest exit. The subterranean Y-Track stretching from New York to Alaska had for thirty years been one of the most secure and heavily fortified networks ever conceived: perfect for shipping national secrets and transporting dangerous super-criminals far from the notice of the concerned public.

“You comfortable there, Betty?” the TASK agent asked.

She grunted “thirsty” and continued to lean lazily against her shackles. The monstrous behemoth of a woman had all but given up on life. Resistance was futile.

The carriage shot down the track at an incredible thirty three miles per minute, but even at that velocity it would still be two and a half hours until they reached their destination. At least there were the inertial dampeners in place to lower the effects of the g-forces inside. That made the journey all the more bearable.

Making her way to the prisoner the TASK agent offered a bottle of water to the prisoner’s giant lips. It was a meager portion in contrast with Betty’s incredible bulk, but it was all she could offer.

“I’m not sure you should be engaging the prisoner like that, ma’am,” one of the guards said pointedly.

The agent was unfazed. “Treating inmates like cattle,” she mused, “one wonders how we ever expect them to remember that they’re human beings. Don’t you agree, Miss Bruiser?”

“Guess so,” she grunted. She was clearly not in the mood to debate the ethics regarding the treatment of inmates.

“It’s nearly another five thousand miles to Unalakleet from here, and then another two hour journey to the Chamber for processing. No reason that the six of us can’t be reasonably friendly in the meantime.”

Finally realizing they’d been duped the two guards immediately trained their weapons on the agent, but didn’t expect to be taken out from behind by the pair who had been hidden among them all that time. While unconscious their weapons were stripped away to become the property of the red headed teenager in black and her malformed sister in inverted tiger print.

The agent visage dropped away to reveal the eldest of the trio, a bald woman wearing dazzling white and a smile that had Betty Bruiser light up with joy. “Hi, Mama,” Brainwave said tearfully as she started to work immediately on loosening the clasps.

“Girls!” Betty choked with glee. “Boy, am I glad to see you three!”

The second villain, Bad Penny, who was no older than sixteen ran immediately to help with her release. “Sorry we took so long, Mommy. These TASK guys are almost starting to become a challenge, you know?”

“And what about you?” she asked the youngest on the floor.

Beast Grrrl looked up and she panted heavily. Though she didn’t smile her cybernetic tail swung back and forth happily, overjoyed like the others that she could see her mother again. When the first clamp came loose she leaned to meet her hand and accept the stroking she’d been missing for weeks.

“We’ve got everything sorted,” Brainwave said. “First we go south, cross the border into Mexico, then we gain passage to Indonesia, and from there it’s anywhere we want. My personal choice would be Spain.”

“Mine is Tokyo,” Penny added with a cute little dance. “But really, Mommy, it’s your choice.”

Betty, however, had other plans. “Milestone City,” she grunted leaving the two daughters very confused.

“What’s in Milestone City?”

“Some unfinished business,” she explained before breaking free of the second restraint. “Don’t worry, girls. We’ll get to Spain, and to Tokyo, but first Mama’s gotta pay a visit to the man who put her in this mess.”

* * * *

Today:

7:15am. A Friday.

Standing by the curb I was lost in the hyper-real. Have you ever had one of those stark, sober mornings where everything was just so vivid? I noticed everything: the wistful chirping of the nesting sparrows, the smell of bacon and fresh cut grass, the flushed out green of the red maple tree across the street and the texture of my black layered skirt tickling the back of my knees in the wind.

I was paranoid, but not like during those times where I only had to worry about passing as female in front of total strangers. This was my home turf and I was on high alert, waiting for the first person to pop their head of the window in confusion only to exclaim ‘isn’t that that Cade kid? He looks freaking ridiculous!’ Then would come the eggs and rotten tomatoes, or worse.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. I knew I could take them. That was the day I was making my stand, and I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything talk me out of it!

7:18 and I could hear faint music, or at least what passed for it in Tanya’s world. She was early and so was the beetle as it pulled up beside me. Here she was: the ferrywoman come to carry me across the River Styx and to my next greatest challenge.

“No,” she said as I opened the passenger side door.

I blinked, not sure if I’d heard her right.

“No?”

“No,” she said again, this time even more firmly than the first. It didn’t help anything. It only cemented my confusion more firmly in place as it grabbed at the air in search of some kind of context.

I pressed my skirt down and slid inside. “What do you mean ‘no’?” I asked in a way that seemed to imply I knew what the hell she was talking about.

“I mean,” Tanya explained sharply, “that I’m not cutting class because you want to dress up. Not today. I’ve got a bio paper due in second period. Whatever you want to do we can either do it after school or you can do it on your own.”

Talk about presumptuous. “Good,” I replied in a snap. I pulled the door closed behind me and reached for the seatbelt. “I actually want to go to school for once. No reason to bite my head off or anything. Jeez.”

“Wait, what?”

Tanya reached back for the stereo. It was playing… something, I don’t know. It sounded like Johnny Rotten but it wasn’t a Sex Pistols song. That much I knew at least. After a moment of fumbling around she finally managed to silence it.

She stopped the engine and laid her eyes on me. “Let me get this straight,” she began. “You want me… to take you to school… dressed like that?”

“Let’s see.” I looked down and inspected myself sarcastically for any sort of wardrobe malfunction. “Hoodie, t-shirt, skirt, sandals. Nope, I’m not seeing anything wrong here. How about you?”

“You look fine, but that’s not what I mean.”

We sat silently for the next few minutes while I searched for the words. There was some explaining ahead of me and boy, did I have a story to tell, but for some reason it just wasn’t coming out.

“The last twelve hours…”

I couldn’t finish. There were no words, only the hollowing fact that I’d taken the plunge and still not hit the bottom. All of the anxiety and nervous tension of the night before suddenly came flooding back and made me feel absolutely helpless. So much for grabbing destiny by the reins, huh?

Tanya gasped when the truth finally sunk in. “Oh god… you told Alan and Liz. Oh wow, you… KC, I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you call me? You didn’t have to do this alone. I would have so totally been there!”

“Can we just go?” I muttered. “I want to get there before I lose my nerve.”

“Really? Because by the look of you I think you could do with some coffee instead.”

The beetle and I groaned together as she turned the engine. The last thing I needed was another distraction keeping me from reaching my goal. On the other hand I had a questionably co-dependent relationship with caffeine and really could have used a cup of coffee.

Waiting for me to say something in protest Tanya lingered behind the wheel and studied my expression. One eye seemed to flash the word ‘school’ while the other flashed ‘java’. They both shone brightly, beckoning me to pick one and go.

“Coffee it is,” she said. So much for not cutting class.

* * * *

“They what!?”

I sipped my tea and studied the back of Tanya’s throat. It was really easy to do when her jaw had dropped so far. In her world there were only three ways that coming out stories could go: good, as in immediate acceptance, bad, as in anger, sadness or utter rejection, or confused which would then inevitably lead to one of the previously stated good or bad responses.

“They didn’t believe me,” I repeated. “I stood there… I stood there and told them ‘Mom, Dad, I’m a girl.’ I freaking came out to them and they didn’t believe me!”

“Did you explain to them that you meant you were a transexual girl, not like, you know, a regular girl?” She recoiled immediately when my hardened gaze cut through her. It was an automatic reaction, and she should have known better. “I accidentally said the wrong thing again, didn’t I?”

“The word is cisgender as in non-trans,” I explained for the millionth time. “Trans peeps are regular peeps too, yaknow.”

“Sorry. I keep forgetting that word. Cisgender, right. Sorry, it’s still early and I’m only just having caffeine,” she continued with a meek expression that said ‘I’ll be good.’ “But you know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Taking another long sip I let the incident fall behind. Usually Tanya was pretty clued in about trans stuff, but like most people she was known to make the odd slip up. She wasn’t bad by any means, just human. She was also lucky she tripped in front of me and not Andy.

Tanya kicked her feet up on the coffee table and leaned back. “How much detail did you go into?”

“Kind of a lot.”

“You told them what you wanted to do?”

“Yep.”

“And then what?”

“Then my Mom told me that no matter how I dressed, what medications I took or whatever surgery I get I’d still have male chromosomes,” I said.

“Did you explain to her that sex and gender are two completely different things and that chromosomes have absolutely nothing to do with what roles people are assigned at birth?”

“Yep.”

“And their response?”

“That it was against God,” I told her. “Actually, it was mostly my Mom saying that. My Dad just kind of sat there stunned for most of it. He probably thought he was on camera or something as part of some elaborate joke.”

“Yeah, I never saw Alan as the Bible beating type,” Tanya admitted.

I looked at the clock. 8:15. If we hurried we could still make second period. A part of me wanted to just skip the whole day, but I had something to prove.

“We really should get to school.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I have to show them I’m serious,” I told her. “My Mom already thinks on and off that I’m gay. I’ve got to set the record straight or else I’m just going to be stuck in the same depressing place forever.”

“You don’t think that maybe they won’t try to pass you off as a cross-dresser or transvestite?”

“They wish,” I laughed bitterly. “That way they wouldn’t have to tell anyone. A secret tranny hidden in the closet is better than an out and proud tranny on the front lawn, right?”

Tanya eyed me suspiciously as she reached for her keys. “I thought ‘tranny’ was a slur.”

“It is,” I explained flatly. “Don’t tell Andy.”

* * * *

8:57. Thanks to a three car traffic pile up first period was pretty definitely out of the question but with some luck we could still made second. Then study hall, thank the gods.

“You really think they’re not going to notice?” Tanya asked.

“How could they not? It’s a pretty drastic change.”

She stared at me blankly as though she had no idea what I was talking about, then it hit her like a brick. “No, dummy. I meant the teachers. They’re going to know how freakin’ tardy we are. If I get kept back on Saturday I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“Don’t blame me! You were the one who wanted coffee,” I told her. “Besides, I’ve never had a problem walking in and out.”

“That’s because you’re practically the Ghost of Jackson High,” she teased. “Years of truancy and over the top excuses have turned you into a creature of myth. I guarantee you walk in there and get called out as the new girl by students and staff who’ve never seen your face.”

“Ha! I think I prefer it that way.”

Confronted by the glass paned doors of the main school building my limbs suddenly froze. Yeah, I was full of crappy jokes, but in truth I was scared out of my mind. In a lot of ways just walking in there dressed the way I was seemed more terrifying than coming out to just my Mom and Dad: it was letting the whole world know, putting myself out there for the judgment, praise, ridicule and indifference of others.

It was different for Justin, it always had been. It didn’t matter so much when people derided him or tore his identity apart through words, just like it didn’t matter when he was the one walking around with a target on his head. He wasn’t a real person. Who cares what happens to him? But Kaira was, and without that falsehood of normalcy to shield me their cracks and jabs would cut to the bone.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tanya pressed. We’d already missed the start of the day. Our names would already have been marked ‘absent’. She would have no problem at all in just calling it in and running across town.

I forced out a smile. Best foot forward and all that. “Yeah,” I laughed from the gallows. “We’ve all got to go some time, right?”

Into the breach I went, practically throwing myself through the doors and into the empty hallway. The bell for second period sounded freezing my heart before the sea of students came flooding into the hallway and intermingling en route to their lockers. Gods, it was too much. I thought the second I blipped on their radar they’d all swarm on me like locusts, but still I pushed on.

* * * *

Second bell had already sounded by the time I made it to Spanish class. So far so good, but with Tanya on her way to biology I was flying solo. Sounds bad, I know, but somehow I managed to convince myself that I’d lived through worse. Steeling myself I pushed the door open.

My eyes jumped around the room catching flashes of recognition in every corner. I could practically read the minds of my classmates: ‘the Ghost of Jackson High has been reincarnated with boobs’ seemed to be the message ticking through the crowd and drawing them closer to see the walking freak show. Sad to say it was exactly the sort of reaction I’d been waiting for.

From the front baseball jock Jordan Liebowitz smiled like a feral dog. Apparently there was something funny about my standing there. “Cade? Is that you?” he laughed crudely.

“Yeah, Halloween’s in October, dude,” came another random call.

Part of me felt like a zoo animal and wondered why a change in wardrobe had to be such a big deal. I hated them for making this so difficult and me for forcing myself through this. More than anything I just wanted the spectacle to be over.

“Yeah, I just felt like something a little different,” I blurted out. “Spur of the moment, you know?”

Jordan, however, wasn’t buying it. “Nah, you’re waaaaay too good at that to be just doing it now,” he chuckled in disbelief. “Hey man, whatever floats your boat. Good luck, ‘cause you’re gonna need it.”

My hand began to tremble with anger. A nervous tick in the back of my leg wanted to send me sprinting away, but I wouldn’t allow it. I said it before and I told myself again: I was there for a reason.

The peanut gallery were silenced the moment Mr. D’Angelo stepped into the room. Even he seemed late as he took long strides toward his desk. He greeted the class as usual with the familiar “Buenos días, clase.”

I tried to make myself invisible, but the snickers only made things worse. They were like a spotlight drawing all the attention to my area, including that of our humble Spanish teacher.

“Buenos días, señorita,” he said smoothly. “Qué bueno que se unan a nosotros. ¿Su nombre es… ‘Justine’?”

My face turned bright red. As if I’d pick a name so close to the one I was born with. “Mi nombre es Kaira, señor,” I told him: a revelation which ignited a fresh round of giggling from the rows in front.

“Sí, Kaira es tan atractiva,” Jordan laughed as he poured layers of sleaze onto his fake accent. “Es mi número una chica!”

Mr. D’Angelo clicked his fingers at him. “Jordan. Silencio por favor.”

“Sorry,” he pleaded breathlessly. “This $#&% is just too funny!” The rest of his pack followed the cue, howling with laughter at my expense. It was like Live at the Apollo and I was the pathetic punch line. Gods, I felt so disgusting…

It seemed like Mr. D’Angelo was the only one not laughing. In the most friendly way he could possibly manage he beamed at me and said “Kaira, eh? Es un nombre muy bonita. Bienvenido a nuestra clase, Kaira.” I was relieved to know that I had another ally with me there.

When the class resumed and the hyenas were distracted I thought I could relax, but that was when something hard hit my shoulder.

I turned around to find a pencil laying on the ground and the one who’d thrown it, Adrian Dempsey, penetrating me with his hate filled gaze. Turns out Mr. D’Angelo wasn’t the only one who wasn’t laughing, but somehow the bully’s stare made me less assured.

“Mierda.”

This was going to be a really rough day.

* * * *

Elsewhere:

Betty coughed heavily spraying a mist of blood into her palm. She pulled away and considered it a moment: another sure sign that she was perhaps not long for this world.

Thoughts of her mortality were cut short by the squeamish hostages on the warehouse floor who were equally if not more concerned for their own. The withered gangster regarded them placidly, nodding to let them know that if they cooperated then they would probably get out alive: assuming of course that nobody, cops included, got jumpy.

“Are you okay, Mommy?”

She looked down to the leather clad teen whose eyes glinted like those of a small child. Poor Penny who had been forced to grow up too fast but then had the chance to regress into innocence once more in her adopted mother’s presence.

“I’m fine, sweetie,” she cooed hoarsely. “Just keep your mind on the task at hand and everything will be alright.”

“We’ve got incoming,” Brainwave declared from the second story office. She too was a good girl, and of the three was the more dedicated and responsible. If not for her the family might have drifted apart in the time Betty spent behind bars.

“And Salvatore?” the matriarch enquired.

“The MMCD are definitely out in force,” she reported. “So far I can’t see Captain Ramirez but even money says that he’s out there. Mama, are you sure about this?”

Betty smiled. “Call it a parting gift,” she mused, much to the dismay of her girls.

“Mommy…”

“Mama…”

The mountainous crone sighed and brushed her meaty digits through her silver white curls. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she explained. “We’ll be out of here soon and they won’t be able to touch us! Soon there’ll be sun, sand… and those pachinko machines that you like!”

Bad Penny giggled and bowed her head bashfully. “I’m sorry, Mommy, it’s just… we’ve been so worried about you.”

“Don’t worry about me, poppet. I’m gonna be just fine. I promise. In the meantime just think about the plan and wait for their little hero to arrive, okay?”

* * * *

Back in Kaira-world:

When the bell for third period rang I darted for the exit hoping to lose myself in the slow human flood filling the corridor. It was worth a try, but the odds of actually escaping were the same as those of an anchovy escaping the jaws of a great white.

I could hear those heavy steps barreling toward me like a freight train. The next thing I knew I’d been yanked into the bathroom and was flat on my back against the linoleum grinding on the dirty footprints. Adrian’s knee pressed painfully into my stomach while he took a handful of my hair and pulled my head up.

“The #$%$ do you think you’re doin’,” he hissed, “walking in here and rubbing that faggot $#&% in my face? You really thought you could get away with it?”

It was his idea of an initiation, I guess: the message of it being that I wasn’t supposed to be there unless I was good and scared. That was the price he demanded I pay, the cost of living in the world of ‘normal’ people where I could only pretend to be one of them. If I refused then rest assured, there would be blood: namely mine.

“Why not? It’s a free country,” I spat. That act of defiance had my head smashed against the ground.

The hallway outside was full, but nobody did anything. They knew what was going on but were too timid to even speak about it. I doubted they were trying to be indifferent: it was just what they did out of fear for their own safety.

He was more aggressive than usual, which for Adrian meant crossing that very fine line between thug and rabid animal. Driven by his hatred he smacked me down at every turn, punishing me for my perceived sin. He was out of control, and not even the sound of the second bell could put a stop to his outburst.

“You’re going to die,” he grunted. “I’m going to kill you and every freak like you!”

My reaction was automatic. My fingers flew out with a jab to his throat that had him stumbling away choking: his loss for getting too close. Without his bulk to pin me down I scrambled to my feet ready for another bout.

“You filthy whore,” he coughed, his boiling face now beet red. “Gonna… make you pay…”

I wasn’t afraid. I’d faced bigger, tougher and meaner. Next to the usual rogues he was nothing: just a fly on the wall I could easily swat, but for years I had to hold back because he was my enemy and not Glimmer Girl’s. Not anymore. It had taken years but he’d finally pushed me to the edge.

He took a swipe at me and missed. Too much power, not enough coordination. It was exactly the sort of brute force that made him a hero on the football field but left him short in a real fight. Despite the number of beat downs he’d given in the past I doubted he’d ever been in a proper brawl.

Gods, it was almost funny to watch him fumble. “You’re pathetic. You’re just lucky nobody’s around to see this.”

“Faggot piece of…!”

The cold tile hit my back. Damn it, I’d let myself get cornered. Adrian took full advantage plowing into me with the full force of his body followed by blow after blow to my gut. They were hard for a high school kid: they still had nothing on Death Engine’s punch that would have liquefied my stomach, but it was enough to send my rage bubbling.

“You’re a joke,” he grunted wildly. “Just because… you fail… at being a man… you think you can… you think you can…”

His words were absolutely meaningless to me. It took all my strength to shift his weight just a few steps. “You just don’t get it, do you Adrian!? Why the hell can’t you just leave me alone!?”

The rest was like a dream. I wasn’t sure who was in control, me or something else. Every ounce of rage I’d ignored, every ounce of cruelty I’d swallowed silently balled up and shot down my arm like a bullet and into Adrian Dempsey’s big, fat jaw. The pain of contact was almost sweet, as was the sound of the stiff crack that sent him down for the count.

I almost couldn’t believe it. One punch! I’d sent the bully who’d tormented me for nearly half my life down with one! Freakin’! Punch!

Tanya once told me that he would get his and that I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. This was far more satisfying. It bears repeating that nothing in the world feels as good as sticking it to the right kind of scum. If only I’d done this sooner.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice,” I winced while cradling my torso. There went my dreams of eating food for the next week.

Adrian lay on the ground, motionless save for the rise and fall of his chest. It was only then that I noticed the thin splash of blood and a lost tooth trailing to the door. Oh crap. I must have hit him a lot harder than I thought.

Double crap. This looked like a job for the nurse.

* * * *

TO BE CONTINUED…