The weekend was too long. My mother congratulated me for choosing something that fit my gender. My father thought that the pass four years were a phase. Caleb and Joseph questioned if it was what I wanted. Gabriel mocked me. For the first time, I was grateful for Monday.
On that day, the club activities started. The ballet group shared space and used the auditory on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. We practised for two hours each day. We were around sixteen students, ten girls and six boys…
I guess…
On the first day, we could wear the school uniform. Many of us were still backstage, organizing our belongings. Away from the rest, I noticed the first semester group, Miguel was in the middle of all them. I took the wig out of my backpack.
As I got closer, I saw the boy crying. His friends tried to cheer him up. I had an idea why he was sad.
—Excuse me…
—What do you want?—
The same girl from the other time spoke.
I spread the wig, —You threw it away the other day, I try not to tangle it.
The boy gazed at me with fear, then at my hand. He moved away from his friends and grabbed his wig. He tweaked it before placing it on his head.
Michelle stood in front of me.
…
Approaching her was difficult, especially because her friends didn't trust me at first. Spending time with her was best during ballet classes. I discovered she could only be Michelle during that time.
The rest of the time, other children used to pick on Miguel for his way of being. His friends were becoming less defensive towards me. I sent anyone who bothered him to the infirmary. This brought some relief.
The winds of autumn announced the arrival of the first month. Along with it came the club's first presentation to the rest of the school.
—But if you hate Ballet, what are you doing here?— one of the boys asked during the warm-up. My dislike for this dance was a secret to no one.
—It's the power of love!
—You should learn something from Ara.
The rest laughed, both at the comment and at my red face. I glanced towards Michelle. We had only spoken a few times. Most of our conversations were about improving my poses and pirouettes.
The girl, noticing she was being watched, hid behind one of her friends.
—Stand up class— the teacher called us.
She carried a box of clothes with her. She requested help. Within seconds, ballet clothes covered the stage floor.
For our first presentation, wear comfortable clothing that is appropriate. Choose your favourite style and let me know your size for ordering.
We all began to look at the clothing options, it made me a little envious to see others find what they wanted. If the clothes weren't too short, they were very pink, not to mention the skirts. —Could I wear this?— I said, pointing to some jazz pants and a t-shirt.
—I'm sorry, darling, but even the smallest size will be very loose on you.
—I don't care, it's fine.
—Sara, I'm sorry, but you have to pick between the female wardrobe, it doesn't have to be pink.
Even with that, I would rather not wear those clothes. I began to feel bad. The teacher didn't mean it with bad intentions. Seeing the clothes disgusted me.
—Why don't you try this?
Michelle arrived showing black shorts with white tights. She also brought a gray leotard and a black cropped sweatshirt.
—You will be able to dance without problems…
As class ended, I walked back to retrieve my belongings. Behind the curtain, I received a message from Caleb. He said he would pick up mom first. He asked us to wait for him. I said goodbye to the boys. Then, I left the school. In front of the school, there was a small park with benches and bushes. I took out my cell phone and started checking my networks.
— Can I sit?
Standing in front of me, Miguel looked at me, I stepped aside to allow her to sit down. We both stayed silent, watching as some people got picked up or others walked away from school.
—Thank you for what you did earlier— I broke the ice.
—Don't worry, I know how uncomfortable it can be to choose clothes— she said, audible.
It took a few minutes that the park got empty.
— Are you like me?
Her question took me surprised, I didn't understand what she was referring to.
—Sorry, I asked something very intimate…
—Not at all, I …
I wanted to answer, but I still wasn't sure who I was.
—And you…
I didn't know how to ask without being offensive. This was my first time living with someone who resembled me.
—I'm Michelle, but my parents force me to be Miguel.
I sensed her sadness. I held her hand, fearing her withdrawal. Surprisingly, she entwined our fingers. We both looked into each other's eyes.
It was magical to meet someone like her.
The sound of tires made us separate, synchronized, his father and my brother had arrived.
—See you tomorrow— Michelle said goodbye.
—See you tomorrow— I responded, heading to my brother's car.
I opened the door behind the driver. My mother waited for the car to start moving. She asked me about Michelle.
—It's… someone from ballet.
—Someone special?— my brother asked, looking in the rearview mirror.
—Someone exceptional— I responded without preventing a smile from ap
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