This morning when I woke up, I was Hannah.  I rolled out of bed, stumbling tiredly to the bathroom.  I got into the shower, letting the warm water roll of my skin.  I washed my short, blonde hair and then my body.  I wrapped a towel around myself, walking out of the bathroom and going back into my bedroom.  I put on my bra and underwear before searching through my closet for something to wear.  After ten minutes, I decided on a black skirt paired with a white shirt and a cheetah print scarf.  I did my makeup and hair before throwing on my black Toms and running downstairs. 

    “Morning Mom,” I said, cheerfully.  My mom sat at the table, sipping her most likely third cup of coffee.  She looked up at me, before looking back down at her paper, a pencil stuck through the center of her messy bun. 

    “Good morning, Hannah,” She said, writing something down.  I walked over to the fridge, grabbing the milk and pouring myself a glass.  My mom stared down at her paper, concentrating.  She was working on writing a story, which involved her drinking copious amounts of coffee, shouting out random things at random times, and Franklin, Jack, and I finding her passed out on the couch. 

    “Where’s Franklin?” I asked, sipping my glass.  Franklin was my step-dad, but he had adopted me when I was ten. 

    “Work,” Mom said in-between sips of coffee.  I heard loud footsteps coming down the stairs, and I knew that Jack was awake. 

    “MORNING MOM!  MORNING HENRY!”  He shouted, walking over to the fridge and grabbing out a cold piece of pizza. 

    “Hannah,” Mom corrected, not even looking up from her paper.  She wrote something else down, then erased it and chewed on the end of her pencil. 

    “Oh.  You’re Hannah today,” Jack said through a mouthful of pizza.  I nodded, laughing at the little boy.  Jack was Mom and Franklin’s little one and he was loud, sanguine, and onry.  He continued to stomp around the house, almost like he was trying to annoy everyone.  Which he probably was, that sadistic little boy. 

    “So what are you writing about Mom?” I asked, leaning against the counter.  She looked up from her writing for a minute, her eyes raking over my outfit. 

    “You look cute today,” She said, looking back down at her paper.  My mom, though a very lovely person, is a bit phlegmatic.  The only time she really gets excited is when she decides on something for her story. 

    “Thanks.  Though it doesn’t really answer my question,” I said, starting to get a little suspicious.  My mom usually told me everything, unless she knew I wouldn’t like what she told me.  She stared at her paper, almost like she was trying to make it catch on fire.  She looked up at me, before speaking. 

    “I’m writing about someone whose gender fluid,” She said quietly, looking back down at the paper.  I groaned, running a hand through my short hair.  She usually didn’t say anything about my orientation, but now she was writing a story about it?

“Hannah, it’s fine.  I’m not doing this because of you, I just think more people need to know what it’s like to know someone whose gender fluid and what people who are gender fluid are like,” Mom said defensively, putting her hands up.  I was born Henry Taylor, and I remember when I first told her I didn’t feel comfortable being a boy.  I was seven years old then, and she had nodded and gotten me dresses to wear.  For a while I finally felt like myself.  But then being a girl didn’t feel right.  I told her that sometimes I felt like a girl, other times I felt like a boy. 

My mother was perfectly fine with this, and took me out with her on a giant shopping spree.  When we got home, my real dad screamed at Mom, telling her that she shouldn’t be encouraging this.  I ran to my room, tears streaming down my face.  I squeezed my ears shut, not wanting to be able to hear their arguing.  That argument broke the conjugal bond between them, and not soon after that my dad left.  I felt terrible about it, but my mother only shook her head, telling me it was going to be okay.

And she was right.  Two years after my dad had left she met Franklin, who had eagerly taken me in as his own.  Jack was born two years after that, and then we moved.   Now we reside in a small town in Connecticut.  I snapped out of my thoughts, looking back at my mom who was staring at me, grimacing. 

“Fine,” I mumbled, putting my glass in the sink.  She fist pumped the air, and I had to laugh at her.  She was honestly my best friend, other than Patrick and Jenna.  I checked my phone, going over to Mom and planting a kiss on her forehead. 

“Bye Mom.  Have a productive day,” I said, turning to Jack.  “Have a good day Jackie.”  Jack growled at me, being the very weird six year old he was.  I laughed, grabbing my bag before walking out the door.  Now came the worst part of my day:  The bus ride.  It’s not that I don’t get teased at school, it’s just that at school I can go to my friends.  On the bus, I have no where to run.  I’m stuck in the middle of assholes without any escape.  Franklin’s told me that he’d drive me to school, but that wouldn’t be pragmatic. 

The bus pulled forward, screeching to a stop.  I took a deep breath before the hell on wheels opened its door.  When the doors opened, I stepped onto the bus.  I smiled confidently, ignoring the snide remarks coming from all around me.

“Look there’s that he-she again.  Guess it decided to dress like a girl.” 

“That thing is abominable.  It’s not natural to have two genders.”

“I wouldn’t let my child dress like that.  God help them if they did.”

I did my best to drown out the comments, sitting down in a seat by a freshman’s whose name I couldn’t quite remember.  The girl sighed with disgust, like a disease had just sat down beside her.  I sat as close to the aisle as possible, pulling out my phone and headphones.  All I could hear was the beat of Queen’s perfect melodies, and Freddie Mercury's incredible voice.  I was lost in my own world when the girl sitting by me tapped my shoulder.  I took one headphone out and turned to her. 

“Henry right?” She asked, her voice incredibly squeaky. 

“It’s actually Hannah,” I said softly, trying to ignore the ominous tone of her voice.

“Yeah, whatever.  So how do your parents feel knowing that they have a transvestite as a child?” She asked, smacking her bubblegum loudly.  I took a deep breath, not in the mood for any of this. 

“Actually, gender fluid would be the correct term,” I said, staring the girl dead in the eye.  “And I don’t know.  How do your parents feel about having a snobby b**** for a daughter?”

That shut her up.  I turned back to face the aisle, putting my other headphone in.  I turned down the music a bit, hoping and praying that this was going to be the only bump in my day.  After twenty more agonizing minutes, we arrived at the school and I walked off the bus, looking for Patrick and Jenna.  They were apparently waiting for me too, because they both stood right outside the doors.  Jenna ran up to me, a huge smile on her face.  God, that girl was all smiles.  Her long brown hair was braided today, and her shirt was bright pink was a giant -yep, you guessed it- smiley face on it. 

“Hannah!  It’s good to see you, girl!” She said rather loudly.  She tended to get a little too excited sometimes.  Patrick walked over, his hands in his back pocket.  He was almost the opposite of Jenna, really.  It wasn’t that he was upset, he just didn’t care about as much as she did.  She was gregarious, whereas he wasn’t.  Today Patrick sported a Nirvana t-shirt and black jeans along with black vans.  His black hair was in a mohawk, and he honestly looked like every Christian’s mother and father’s worst nightmare. 

“It’s good to see you too, Jenna.  And Patrick, you’re looking badass my man,” I said, smiling at my best friends.  Patrick took Jenna’s hand and used his free hand to make the rock out gesture.  I laughed, enjoying Patrick’s obvious enthusiasm.  Jenna and Patrick had started dating two years ago, and they had been inseparable since.  He must be pretty adamant in being the best boyfriend ever, because he did everything in his power to make an already happy Jenna even happier.  It was adorable. 

“So some freshman on the bus was being a jerk earlier,” I said suddenly, the event popping into my mind.  I really didn’t like talking about people like this, but it’s hard not to disparage people who are assholes. 

“Oh yeah?  What did he or she say?” Jenna asked, looking at me with concern lining her face. 

“The normal.  She asked how my parents felt having a transvestite as a kid,” I said, my voice full of melancholy.  Though I hear these insults everyday, they still hurt.  I try not to let them affect me as a person, but sometimes it’s hard.

“Hey.  It’s okay, Hannah.  She’s obviously stupid, since she can’t tell the difference between a trannie and someone whose gender fluid,” Jenna said, her voice getting softer. 

“Thanks,” I said, smiling at my friends.  “You guys are amazing.  What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” Patrick said, laughing a bit.  I laugh along with him, thankful for such supportive friends.  Being genderfluid has it’s downfalls, but it’s who I am.  I’m thankful that my friends can see that and that they support me no matter what.  I smile over at Jenna, looking past her and seeing the most glorious girl I have ever seen.  Her pink hair was pulled into a chaotic bun on the top of her head and her nose was pierced.  Her attire consisted of a dress with daisies on it and a pair of black combat boots. 

“Uh, Hannah, you still with us?” Jenna asked, noticing my obvious staring.  She turned around to see what I was looking at, and when she turned back around she was smirking. 

“Oh, yeah,”  I mumbled, turning the color of a tomato.  I looked down at the ground, sneaking peeks of the girl.  I cleared my throat before speaking again.  “Who is that?  I haven’t seen her around here before.”

“That’s Ned Erickson’s younger sister.  She was living with her mom in New York, but she transferred here,” Patrick answered, turning around and glancing at the girl before facing Jenna.  “You’ve met her, right babe?”

“Yeah, I have.  Her name is Nora.  She’s pretty nice.  Likes a lot of punk rock stuff.  Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy.   You know,”  Jenna replied, looking over at me again.

“Why are you looking at me?” I ask suspiciously, a blush creeping up my neck. 

“Probably because you were the one just making googly eyes at her,” Jenna said, acting as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Oh God, my staring wasn’t that obvious was it? 

“I wasn’t making ‘googly eyes’ at her.”

“Sure you weren’t.  Just like I’m not really dating Patrick,” Jenna muttered, pulling Patrick closer to her.  She rolled her eyes, looking at me expectantly. 

“What?” I asked, looking back at my feet.  Jenna is incredibly good at telling when people want something and she makes it her personal mission to make sure they get that something. 

  “Are you seriously not going to go talk to her?” 

   I took a deep breath, swallowing hard.  I did want to talk to her, but there was no way she was going to like me.  We seemed to be the exact opposite.  While I dressed like I was going to  a tea party, she dressed like she was going to be in a killer fashion show.  There was just something about her that made me want to talk and get to know her.  Finally I sighed, looking back at Jenna. 

“Will you leave me alone if I do?” I asked, trying to make myself sound as annoyed as possible.  In reality, it was the exact opposite.  I could feel those damn butterflies in my stomach, beating their wings harshly.  The palms of my hands were sweating and I wiped them on the skirt, hoping she couldn’t tell how nervous I was. 

She seemed to contemplate my request before answering, a stupid smile returning to her face.  “Yeah, okay, fine.”

I nodded, looking over at Nora.  She was so pretty, and I was so… Me.  I didn’t move from where I was standing, seemingly frozen in my spot.  Jenna looked at me and raised an eyebrow, nodding her head as if to say “Well?  C’mon.”  I nodded back, taking that first step across the schoolyard.  I heard Jenna scowl and I felt someone grabbing my hand, pulling me forcibly to the girl. 

“Jesus Christ Hannah.  Do you really have it that bad?”  Jenna asked.  We were coming closer and closer to Nora and I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ear. 

“I- I don’t-”  I stumbled to get out, Jenna still on her rampage, pulling me by my wrist behind her.  We finally made it to the girl and Jenna shoved me her way.  I practically bumped into her, and Nora raised an eyebrow at us. 

“Hi, Nora, we’ve met before.  Anyway, this is my friend Hannah.  She thinks you’re hot and I’m tired of watching her stare at you.  Hannah, this is Nora,”  Jenna said, exasperation evident in her voice.  Once she was done she smiled, apparently proud of herself.  She walked back over to Patrick, taking his hand and talking to him about something. 

I flushed a dark red.  I wanted to disappear off the planet at the moment.  Maybe I could move to the Mars and change my name, then get adopted into the Martian civilization.  I could become the queen of Mars and reign over my Martian empire.  I was lost in my daydream when she spoke. 

“So… You think I’m hot?” Nora asked, looking me over.  I felt like a spotlight was shining on me, and I wasn’t sure if I loved the feeling or hated it.  If it was even possible, I felt my face heat up even more. 

“I- uh, I didn’t say that you were hot,” I managed to get out, looking anywhere but at Nora.  She was even more gorgeous up close.  Her wild light pink hair clashed perfectly with her blue eyes and freckles.  She had an hourglass figure and short legs.  She looked like she had come out of a magazine. 

“Oh.  Well, that sucks.  My name is Nora by the way,” She said, smiling softly at me.  Her eyes were shining with mischief. 

“I got that.  Listen- I’m sorry about Jenna.  She’s a little overbearing at times,” I mumbled, looking at her and biting the inside of my lip. 

“It’s fine.  I’ll actually have to thank her.”

“Why?”  I asked, a little confused.  I tilted my head a bit in question. 

“She introduced me to you.”