Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Growing Up Girl ❯ Chapter 2

The time I spent in military school was much like the famous opening line from Charles Dickens' 'A Tale of Two Cities.' "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." But, of course, it had nothing to do with a French revolution. It was my own revolution, in a way.

One of the best things about military school was that I was away from my parents. Though every boy attending was asked to keep their hair cut in a conservative style, it wasn't a rule. I allowed mine to grow, and grow it did. Without my parents around to insist I get it cut, within a few weeks it was long enough that I could pull it back into a small ponytail. At first, I used cheap rubber bands stolen from my teacher's desk to hold it together. My parents sent me money usually every two weeks. We had expenses there, personal articles like combs and hair gel; the older boys had razors and shaving cream and aftershave for their faces. I used the money to buy myself the things I'd always wanted.

One weekend out of the month, the students were taken out to Wal-Mart and allowed to shop for their necessary things. I always wandered over to the girl's clothing section. I started out small, with just a few hair ties, maybe a belt or even a girl's wallet, small enough to fit in my back pocket. I bought a "backpack" that looked surprisingly similar to a purse. As time went on, I got more and more bold. I bought a pair of girl's jeans. And a small t-shirt. And then a pair of shoes. A skirt. Pantyhose. Make-up.

Of course, none of these items, save for the backpack, was ever seen by anyone other than my bunkmate. I had learned to be more cautious than that.

So, those were the best of times. I began to grow a new sense of self and it bubbled furiously inside me, just waiting for the right moment, the moment when no one was around, to be released. I'd dress in my clothes on the weekends, when my bunkmate was out socializing. I'd put on the make-up and just stare at myself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, just loving myself.

The worst of times, though; those really were the worst. I was teased constantly. Constantly. 'Faggot' and 'prissy boy' and 'pervert.' The names haunted me day in and day out as I tried to drag myself through my classes and through the rough workouts and the harsh teachers screaming in my face about discipline, and being a man. If only they knew just who they were talking to. I was not a man. I would never be a man. I would be a woman.

I would always shower alone in the large communal showers, but sometimes the other boys would come in and rough me up. Sometimes my head was cracked against the wall until I saw sparks in my vision. And then one day, it was a Thursday night. Late. I was showering alone, using my personal strawberry-scented soap and strawberry-scented shampoo.

A group of older boys came in. They stood at the doorway, leering at me with vicious smirks on their faces. I froze, shampoo bubbles still in my hair. I knew what was coming.

"Well, if it isn't the faggot boy." They were older students. Fifteen and sixteen year olds. I was only ten. I knew I couldn't defend myself. I did the best I could to wash the shampoo. Funny, the only thing going through my mind was how much it would burn if I got soap in my eyes as I was getting beaten up. They stepped forward. The shower hissed angrily, the only sound in the room, save for their footsteps.

I pressed my back against the wall, hands lowering to my groin to try and cover my nakedness. The last thing I wanted these boys to see was the organ I was so ashamed of having. One of them shoved my shoulder, grinding my bony back into the hard tiles. "Let's give this nancy boy a lesson on being a man." Another shove before I saw one of the boys draw back his fist.

It connected squarely with my jaw and sent me spinning around. I wondered for a moment how I ended up facing the wall before I was pressed firmly against it. I tried my best to fight back. Really, I did. But I had no idea what I was doing. I believe that most males have a natural, intrinsic ability to fight. I didn't. I wasn't a boy.

I was spun around again. A hand was raised, fingers spread. "You can't punch sissy boys. You have to bitch slap them to get the point across." And the hand came down on my face. The water made the sting ten times worse, and I actually cried out in pain and fell to the floor, more to protect myself by curling up in a ball than out of pain.

"What are you jerks doing now?" I dared to lift my eyes from the tile floor.

Another boy was standing in the doorway. He was not nearly their age; he was closer to my own, maybe a year older. I didn't recognize him from any of my classes. Surprisingly, the other boys backed up a bit. I hadn't expected that reaction to someone younger than they were.

"We weren't doing nothing, Heero. Just messing with the faggot." He glared at me, and then glared at the others.

"Well, leave him alone. It's past lights out."

And like that, my tormentors were gone. Heero remained in the doorway, staring at me. I sat up and rubbed my cheek sadly. The shower still hissed at me. "You okay?"

I nodded, not having the courage to glance up at him or even say thank you. When I did finally look up, he was gone.

I spent the next few weeks trying to find out more about Heero. I wanted to find him on campus, at least, and tell him thank you. I had it all worked out in my head. I would shake his hand, as firmly and as confidently as I could. I would tell him that I was very grateful. And then I would walk away. Just like in a movie.

I hadn't realized until then that I had no friends in the entire school. I had no acquaintances, either, save for my bunkmate. I'd never spoken to him before, but I had to ask someone, or I knew I would go insane. He was leaning intently over his homework, a frown of concentration present on his forehead, partially hidden by his shaggy blonde bangs. "Um... hey?"

I really had no idea how to start a conversation. I'd never done it before. To add to it, I couldn't even remember his name. His head snapped up at my words, though, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Do you know who Heero is?"

He gave me a strange look. "Heero? Why?"

"He helped me out, and I want to find him to say thank you."

There was a look of suspicion on his face. Of course he was suspicious. The school faggot was asking about a fellow male student. He gave in, though. Or so it seemed. Maybe he was just trying to remember who he was. "Is he the one with brown hair, kinda short, big blue eyes?"

I ran through a list of the many students who had that same description, but nodded anyway. "He's maybe a little older than us."

My bunkmate gave a nod. "That's probably Heero Yuy. I think he's twelve, but he was moved up to the older classes because he's so smart."

I looked up at the ceiling in wonder. "What classes?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Like I would know that. I'm not the genius. I think he's pretty popular, though, so you shouldn't have much trouble finding out from someone older."

I nodded and gave him my thanks before laying down on my bed and curling up under the blankets.

"My name's not 'Hey,' by the way. It's Quatre."

"Thank you, Quatre."

A week later, I saw Heero again. My physical education class was outside, running the track. It was a three mile race. I was on lap two and in the lead when I saw him. I slowed to a walk. He was out on the football field with some of the older boys. I squinted, trying to see him better. He had his shirt off. They were playing football. Was Heero on the team? I made a mental note to go to the next game. Heero was much smaller than the other boys, but that seemed to give him an advantage. I watched as a play began. Heero squeezed through a huge line of the others and ran and ran and ran before turning around. He caught the ball thrown at him with ease I'd never seen before. In a split second, he had made a touchdown. He was swarmed by his teammates. Apparently, they'd won. I didn't really know much about football.

I didn't even give myself a moment to think about it. I darted away from the asphalt track and began running to him. By the time I got there, the others were making their way to the locker rooms to shower. Heero was sitting on a bench on the sidelines, drinking from a bottle of water.

I stepped around in front of him, breathing heavily, and he looked up at me. His expression was unreadable. "Hey."

I beamed. Maybe he remembered me, remembered saving me from a cruel beating. "Hi, Heero." He seemed surprised that I knew his name. I quickly continued, sticking out my hand. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me in the showers a few weeks ago." He reluctantly took my hand. I had wanted to give him a firm handshake, but found that my hand went rather limp in his. It was more like he was just holding it.

"I'm very grateful."

He released my hand and nodded, picking his shirt up off the ground and tossing it over his shoulder before he stood. I took a step back from him, not wanting to be too close. I didn't want him to be uncomfortable. Most people in the school treated me like some sort of easily spread virus.

"What was all that about, anyway?" He didn't really seem to care about the reason. He drained the rest of his water and tossed the bottle into a nearby trashcan before starting his walk towards the locker room. I hesitantly followed.

"Well, it's hard to explain. Everyone just thinks I'm a gay or something, so they beat me up a lot."

He stopped walking and glanced back at me as I caught up to his side. He looked me up and down. It was like he was sizing me up. Studying me carefully.

"How often does that happen?"

I stared at the ground, embarrassed. "Enough."

He thought for a moment. "Ya know, I'm not gonna be around all the time to help you out. You should learn to defend yourself."

The very thought of it scared the hell out of me, brought a shiver to my spine and goose bumps to my skin. "I'm not a very good fighter."

"Well, you're a guy. You're gonna have to learn sometime. It's the only way to make them stop."

I felt ready to cry, but nodded anyway. I had hoped that Heero wouldn't see me as a boy. I thought that someone as intelligent as him must have known. Surely he must have known I was a girl trapped in an all-boy school.

"How about we meet up on Saturday mornings from now on, and I'll help teach you?"

I was overwhelmed. The mere thought the Heero Yuy, the best student in the school, and one of the most popular ones, wanted to help me, spend time with me, teach me; it was almost too much to handle. I nodded happily, hands coming together in front of me as I fought to keep from giggling in excitement. "I'm in room 23, G building. Stop by around 7."

I nodded again and turned to go. We didn't even say goodbye. When I got back to the track, my class had gone back into the gym. I slinked into the locker room, averting my eyes from every naked or half-naked body around me. I grabbed my clothes and went to the single bathroom to change. The coach stopped me on my way there. I was in trouble. Detention for the rest of the week. Extra workouts after school. More discipline. I needed more discipline. And when was I going to cut that damn long hair? I looked like a sissy.