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I wasn’t angry with the boy I punched, someone dared me to and I was tired of my goody-goody reputation. However, the comment about evening choir socializing was about a different weekend.There’s not anything else written in my hand journal about the retreat. Surprising, since that is the only reference in the entire journal to meeting my first "boyfriend." I use quotations there, because I barely saw him.I met—let's call him Peter—at a collaborative event between a couple of different high school choirs. It was something of a retreat mixing the choirs. I took right away to the naive, but older twins I was bunked with. We’ll call them Sammy and Tammy. They were adorable and innocent. Very quickly their discussion turned to the older set of male twins at their school. One of these young men was in choir with them and both sisters had a severe crush on him.His name was Peter, just like my oldest brother. He was tall, had shoulder-length curls, and his brother who happened to be dating. .sexy. She blushed at that thought. Sexy? Howhad that ever been possible? How could she ever have felt sexy as a girl?She wasn't a she. She was a he. He was a man. A strong man. A man whocould fight what was happening to him. He saw a light at the end of thetunnel. More than a metaphorical light. A real light, the outside world.He kept crawling. Ignoring the bounce of his faux breasts as they moved upand down with his movements. He couldn't wait to rip them off, climb thefence, or the wall, or whatever it was, and get back to his deluxeapartment in the sky. He began to laugh. A real laugh. Not a giggle likehe'd been programmed to do these past few months. A proper laugh. He waswas happy. He was nearly free.He slammed against the vent and popped it out, sliding out and down to theground. His bare feet hit the grass and he savoured that feeling. Afeeling he hadn't felt in all too long. All those months in heels. Damnthose heels. He'd never have to wear them again. He started to run to.
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He rarely came to the town, he could feel the magic leach away; it was like coping with a phobia, you had to steel yourself and be hard and cope. But he didn’t want to be hard and cope, he wanted to sit on the grass and feel it growing. He loved hunting. Now he had lost his mount, he would run across the hills, often naked, at dawn, chasing down a hare. And when he caught it, he would thank the hare for the chase and for its life.At the village centre, there were three shops and two cafes; the young couple went to the shop to buy milk and eggs. Krill bought a newspaper from the newsagent. It usually depressed him, but occasionally a good, uplifting story appeared. He liked to hear of vast resources spent rescuing a cow or a dog; perhaps there was a hidden bit of the old world left if they valued a single animal so much. Or the campaign to save Old Wood on the other side of this very town; the developers said it was not as old as people thought, the trees were not ancient woodland..

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