With a sigh, the girl slid into a plastic chair and deftly set her tray down at an empty section of a table. The chatter of the high school cafeteria was almost deafening, pounding against her temples. She wiped her sweaty hands against her jeans and eyed the crowd sitting a table away from her: Debate kids, it looked like. She could see the note cards and MLA formatted essays fluttering about between tablemates. One boy was flipping through what looked to be a congressional agenda; bold titles and bullet points with loopy signatures at the bottom. A few undefined, clique-less kids were scattered around the table as well, talking and laughing with one another. Some of them glanced over blankly at her.

The sixteen-year-old drew in a slow breath and dragged her gaze to her lap, where her hands shook. They see me. They know I’m the new girl. Oh, this is a bad time to draw attention… In the back of her mind, the girl knew she wasn’t drawing much attention at all. She knew she was over exaggerating, but it was still intimidating. Especially here, in this setting.

“The lunch room,” she whispered to herself. “Why does it have to be now I enter school?” She turned to her bag and pulled out a notebook and pen. The bookstore journal was faux leather bound with string. She focused on untangling the massive knot she created instead of the disgustingly fragrant elephant in the room, right under her nose. She tried to push her shrieking conscience aside as she flipped open to the page marked by the string bookmarker. Her eyes burned as she stared at yesterday’s entries. She swallowed nervously and clicked her pen. I don’t have to write anything in here. I really don’t. The other side of her conscience, fondly named May, shot back, but they’re gonna notice what you won’t be doing. Wouldn’t that be a great start to a new school? They’re gonna spread rumors about you already!

A loud stomp brought her back to reality. A boy with sweeping brown hair, a snapback, and a tray of food in his hands had stumbled. He lurched forward to catch himself. Snickers rose into the air behind him, and he straightened and lifted his chin. The girl quickly averted her eyes. Poor thing.

The boy began to ease down the way between tables and cautiously looked for a place to sit. The girl drew in a sharp breath as her heart began to pound. He doesn’t know me. What if I offer him a seat but he’s the meanest guy in school? What will people think of me then? But she knew she had to offer him a seat; she had been in his exact position before.

“H-Hey,” she called to him. The boy looked over. She lowered her gaze. “Do you wanna sit?” He tipped his head slightly, faltered, then grinned and nodded.

“Thanks,” he sighed as he took the seat opposite her. She offered a shy smile. He’ll notice too! Damn! “You okay? You looked like you hurt your ankle back there.” Immediately the boy’s cheeks flushed and he pushed his rectangle wire glasses up on his nose.

“Oh, nah, I’m good,” he stammered. She was surprised at his high-pitched voice. Well, high for a sixteen year old, at least. After a pause he smiled again. “Thanks. That means a lot.” She smiled back.

“My name’s Noah.” He extended his hand across the table.

“Natalie,” she replied as she shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Natalie.” She drew in a deep breath through her nose and glanced down at her notebook again. Oh, he’ll notice. You suck at lying. You have to!

Noah lifted his hat off his head, ran a hand through his bangs and settled it back on again. Natalie's eyes suddenly snapped to his arms as she noticed something.

The sleeves of his blue and black button down were rolled up to his elbow, revealing several neat rows of long white and pink slivers on both his arms. Some rose into uneven patches of red at his elbows. She noted grimly his arms were cluttered from wrist to elbow with slashes colored from white to dark red. Smoothed over by skin, but unsettling nonetheless. Natalie’s blood ran cold. No, no, poor boy… She flicked her gaze back up to him again and desperately prayed he hadn’t caught her staring. He gave a vaguely quizzical look.

“I-I like your shirt,” she blurted. He glanced down at his Beartooth shirt and then gave her a smile. “Oh, thanks!” he breathed. She really did, in fact, like his shirt. She was a huge fan of Beartooth. “Do you listen to them at all?”

“Yeah. I saw them at Warped Tour this summer. They were f***ing great.” A corner of his mouth turned up for a heartbeat; language coming out of this pretty girl’s mouth!

“Aw, that’s rad! I saw them too, in New York. It was super cool.” Natalie fell silent again. Noah shook his carton of chocolate milk, opened it, then took a bite out of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She swallowed nervously. He seemed to pick up her uneasiness for when he swallowed his bite he asked softly, “Yo, you okay?” She was shocked at how gentle his tone was all of a sudden.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She stared at her own tiny peanut butter and jelly, cut in half. The other half she threw away when no one was looking. Beside it was a quarter-sized helping of green beans, and a carton of sugar-free orange juice in front.

Her stomach felt like a roiling pit of lava as it growled, begging for something in it. She picked up her pen and dated the page. She tried to ignore the fact that this was such a toxic ritual. September 18th: 1c green beans-35 cals. Natalie spooned a bit of the green beans into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He’s watching me, she thought. Noah was looking up over his milk carton, occasionally looking away to wipe his mouth on the wadded up napkin in his fist. As if hit by something, he straightened up, pulled at the front of his shirt and yanked his sleeves down.

“Something bite you?” she asked. Noah faltered for a second and frowned. She began to realize he himself was uncomfortable. Natalie softened her gaze apologetically. “Sorry,” she murmured right after.

“No, no.” He shook his head and wiggled the right frame of his glasses. “I’m… I’m good.” He pulled the sleeves of his button down into his palms and clenched his fists. Natalie went out on a limb, and proceeded cautiously.

“I… I saw.” She gestured to his arms, and Noah went pale. He breathed in once, and his shoulders pushed back. “It’s okay, don’t worry,” she added quickly. “I know. I know what it’s like.” She patted her lower abdomen. “They’re here.” Noah seemed to understand. “Sorry that I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, don’t be,” he murmured at last, relaxing slightly. Noah furrowed his brow at her. “This is kinda totally weird, but, can I tell you something? I don’t know why, I just…” Natalie almost smile as Noah lowered his head uncertainly. Poor thing. He wanted someone to trust. She knew the feeling all too well.
“Of course.” She felt empathetic for the boy she knew for three whole minutes.

He pushed hair from his eyes and began slowly, quietly. “I’m… I’m not actually a guy. I wasn’t born this way.” Natalie went speechless. What the hell could she say? “I’m transgender. I was born a girl, in a girl’s body, but inside I’m really a guy.” Silence followed. He took a deep breath and stared at the table, looking like he had suddenly lost his appetite. “Sorry.” He shook his head again. “Damn, that was stupid. S-Sorry. I just felt… well, you saw my arms, and usually, people want… like an… explanation or something.” Natalie couldn’t articulate words to console him. “Damn—damn it! Sorry, sorry, sorry.” He took his hat off again and ruffled his hair aggressively. “That was really dumb. Forget I ever said anything.” Noah ran both hands through his hair and rested his forehead on his palms.

“No, it’s okay,” Natalie finally breathed. “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. It’s not weird. I get it, man. I know how you feel.” Natalie stiffened as she realized she misspoke. “No, not in your exact situation, but the need to tell a stranger something. It’s okay. Don’t worry.” The boy didn’t respond. “It’s alright.  In fact,” she ventured. “If it makes you feel any better, I never would’ve guessed you were biologically a girl. You look exactly like a guy.” She offered him half a smile. Noah returned it.

“Thanks, Natalie. Sorry.” The boy hesitated like he was about to continue, mouth half open. He squinted for a moment and Natalie mentally prepared herself. “Hey, can I say one more thing? It’s a bit… personal for you, I think. If you’re upset or anything, just tell me and I’ll drop it.” Well, Nat was certainly uncomfortable under his hawk-like gaze. Nothing gets past him. He gazed at her again through smudged lenses, and she felt she could trust him; he certainly trusted her.

They both know what he was talking about, and silence stretched between them.

“Y-yeah. No, don’t worry. I know it’ll be good to talk. I guess, I just don’t… don’t like to eat, I guess. It’s not fun for me.” Noah patiently held his gaze with her. “Yeah, it’s what you think. I don’t wanna eat, to… gain the weight…” She said the last part in a whisper, ashamed. After a thoughtful lapse of silence, Noah replied.

“Aw, kid. That must… just suck.” He added the last part with sincere conviction, like he didn’t know how else to express his empathy. “I know how that goes, actually.” He backpedaled quickly and hastily added, “I’m not trying to say I know your exact situation or anything, and not trying to downplay it at all!” Natalie didn’t look up from her notebook. “I’m just saying… I know what it feels like to hate your body, and to refuse… stuff… for it.” Natalie noted that he was graciously trying to hop around the topic, as to not bring up specific possibly triggering words. It was appreciated.

“Thanks,” she sighed again, and gnawed her lower lip.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone or say anything about it, okay? Just know that,” he trailed off, unsure. It was like if he said the wrong thing, she would flee, like a wild animal. “Like, I’m here, and stuff. I dunno. High school’s rough, yo.”

Natalie nodded solemnly. “I appreciate it, Noah. And you, too. Even though I don’t know what it’s like for yourself and everything, but if you’re ever feeling bad… I mean, I don’t have any friends or anything,” she laughed bitterly. Noah habitually ran a hand through his hair under his hat and grinned.

“Yeah, I feel you. Thanks, man.” And to her surprise, the boy stretched his hand to her, palm up. With a grateful smirk and a lift of her chin, she placed her hand in his. He wrapped his scraped knuckles and spindly fingers around hers, and she gripped back, hard.

Thanks, Noah. We’re in this together.