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" Ah shit, I thinkto myself. What have I done now?I nod and head upstairs, sighing as I exchange my comfortable jeans andt-shirt for a clingy, itchy pair of black tights and a new pair of denimshorts I bought for myself with my Christmas money (the only clothes Iwas actually given as Christmas presents were, of course, skirts anddresses), before pulling on a tight, long-sleeved top. Despite my shorthair, when I stare in the mirror, there's no questioning the gender ofthe reflection staring back at me."My name is NOT Kayleigh-Ann," I whisper to myself as I rest my foreheadon the mirror and try to forget about the tight, uncomfortable nature ofmy clothes. "I Am NOT a girl. My name IS Ian Freeman, I AM a boy..." Ilet out a long sigh and head into the bathroom to wash a few stray flakesof paint off of my hands and my face, before heading downstairs andsitting down opposite my parents."Kayleigh-Ann," Mum says. "Tomorrow is your sixteenth birthday, and I'msure you know that that means there. Emily was one of the hospital's top administrators. "You'd think I would get a better chair," she thought. She got up, her hips moving smoothly in her pencil skirt, and bent down to stretch her hamstrings. Still bent over she looked up to see the young orderly standing there. His muscular silhouette filling the doorway. She smiled sheepishly and hoped she wasn't blushing, but she knew she was a little. Emily knew he got a nice look down her blouse. "I'm just going to grab your dad's dinner tray," he said with a smile that showed off his perfect white teeth. She took note of his strong forearms. Her phone beeped, it was an e-mail from Jonathan, her husband of fifteen years, who was in China on business. He was sending a good night message. She glanced at it as she ran her hands through her blonde hair with a wisp of grey. Even in her mid-forties though there wasn't much of it. "Thanks James," she said. She had felt his gaze linger a bit longer ever since her first visit. He stood.
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