Be a girl

Our maths test came and went. I breezed through it, as expected. Completely routine procedure. I suspected that the tutoring session I’d given Jaxon helped it feel far easier than it would have otherwise though. I didn’t normally study for any sort of test, and well, that sort of counted as study. 

When we received our tests back over a week later, I was completely unsurprised to learn that I’d gotten one hundred percent. Not a single mistake. I almost felt bad for showing my score to Jaxon, who had been extremely proud of receiving eighty one percent on his test. I supposed it was far better than he was ever expecting. He also wasn’t surprised by my score and thanked me immensely for the help I’d given him. He remarked that he knew I was the right person to ask for help, which put a smile on my face.

I walked home alone that day, as it was a Thursday, and Jaxon had cricket training. He hadn’t invited me to any more of his cricket matches on Saturdays, for which I was thankful. I still thought cricket was the dullest sport ever invented, and he was willing to respect that opinion, even if he didn’t agree.

Summer had officially drawn to a close as March rolled in, and cooler weather was beginning to come through. With that came an increase in humidity, owing primarily to the fact that cooler air could hold less water. This meant that rain was beginning to become more common. I could see the grey rain clouds forming overhead on my way home, which slightly worried me that I wouldn’t make it home before a downpour – I’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. Thankfully, I made it home without so much as a drop of water landing on me.

It was only a few minutes after I arrived home that the rain began to come down. And come down it did. The spattering of water on the corrugated iron roof of dad’s house was almost deafening. Oh, how thankful I was that I wasn’t hit by this on my way home. I hated being rained on. Even with an umbrella. Though umbrellas did make walking in the rain much more bearable.

The rain eventually calmed from a torrential downpour – though it didn’t stop completely –  and I was able to hear myself think once again. The soft pitter patter of drizzle on the roof remained for quite some time.

Some time later, the doorbell rang. I had no idea who it could have been. James was already home, so it was unlikely to be mum. So, who else could it be? We didn’t get many visitors at our household.

I briskly walked to the front door and opened it. I was met with the sight of someone’s chest and had to peer up to get a proper look at the giant before me. There was, of course, only one person it could have been: Jaxon. Why was he here? Better question: how did he know where I lived? I never divulged that information. We would always, always stop by his house first on our walks home, then I would make my way back over here afterwards on my own.

His appearance was rather dishevelled, owing to the rain, and the fact that he seemed to have also forgotten an umbrella. He was completely soaked to the bone. And his expression was… solemn. A very unusual sight from him.

“Jaxon? What are you doing here?” I asked incredulously.

“Cricket training got rained out,” he replied. Ok. That didn’t answer my question in the slightest. All it explained was why he was currently not at cricket training. If I were him, I would have headed straight home in such an event.

“That doesn’t…” I began but trailed off before finishing my sentence. I didn’t want to finish the sentence.

My friend let out a deep, heavy sigh. “I’m just… not feeling too great at the moment.” Oh. Ok.

“How did you even find where I live?” I shook my head, “I never told you.”

“Just a feeling.” What? “Can I come in? I kinda wanna talk to you about something.”

“Oh, um, sure.” I ushered him inside. As he ducked his head to fit through the doorway, I briefly noted how glad I was that I wasn’t a giant like Jaxon. It seemed like a massive pain to be so tall.

He removed both his shoes and socks upon entering, likely due to them being soggy and uncomfortable. With his feet bare like that, it was impossible not to notice just how large they were. We walked further inside the house, where we encountered my dad, who immediately offered my friend a spare towel to dry himself off, which Jaxon graciously accepted.

After some quick instructions, he made his way over to the bathroom and locked himself inside. I informed him that I’d be waiting in my room for him after he’d dried himself off. In the meantime, I grabbed my gloves off my desk and put them on. I couldn’t risk an accident.

Something was going with Jaxon, but it was impossible to tell what. From the moment I met him, I knew he was different, but some of the ways he acted, some of the things he said, were downright strange, and I couldn’t help but notice. It was subtle, and I wondered if anyone else had noticed as well. It was like, he always seemed to know just a little bit more than he let on. And the fact that he somehow managed to pick out my house out of the many others in the neighbourhood only reinforced this. Just how on Earth did he know where I lived? It didn’t make any sense. People didn’t just stumble upon the one house out of hundreds on a ‘feeling’. So, how did he know? Did dad tell him without my knowledge? Possible. Though unlikely.

Jaxon entered my room still completely soaked, but there was nothing that could really be done about his clothes. Sure, dad could have put his clothes in the dryer, but then he’d have nothing to wear. It wasn’t like he could simply borrow any of our clothes. His shirt would probably count as a dress if I were to wear it.

He did keep the towel though and placed it down onto my bed to keep it somewhat dry before sitting down on it. I swivelled in my chair to better face him. He looked defeated almost, slumped over on my bed. His damp hair had been undone from its usual bun and rested gently on his shoulders.

“So, uhh, I’m still confused as to why you’re here,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Right,” he said, “Um. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uhh…”

“I just… I trust that you won’t tell anyone. I know you have some secrets that you don’t want to get out.”

“Um. Ok.” He didn’t know what those secrets were, did he? Surely not. How would he? I was very secretive about the reason I wore gloves, constantly deflecting questions about them. Perhaps he was talking about that.

He sighed. “That cheery face you see, when we’re at school? It’s fake. It’s a mask I put on to try and convince others, and myself, that there’s nothing wrong. That I’m ok. That I’m not some hollow husk trudging my way through life. Maybe one day I’ll believe my lie. Who knows. But right now, I’m just tired. It’s so exhausting wearing the mask, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the charade. Every night I go to bed, feeling like I want to cry, but I’m never able to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He sighed again and slumped forward even further, resting his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands.

Wow. That was. Something. Definitely not what I was expecting. I wasn’t sure how to react. At all. Was I supposed to say something? Comfort him? How? I wasn’t exactly an expert on providing comfort to others. With James, my strategy was to simply distract him from his woes, which hardly counted.

“I’m sorry for dumping this all on you,” he said, “I just needed to say something, and I had no one else.”

“Why me?”

“You’re a good listener.”

Silence broke out between the two of us. I had no idea what to say, if I should even say anything. Jaxon took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, then turned to face me. All traces of his usual exuberance were gone, as if they had never been there. It reminded me of James in a weird way, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why.

Eventually, the question that had been niggling at the back of my mind burst forth. The one that Jaxon still hadn’t answered, at least not properly. “How did you find out where I live? I never told you.”

He bit his lip, chewing on the question within his mind. “Right, so, this is gonna sound super weird and unbelievable. I’ve never told anyone this – well, except Emily, kind of, and she didn’t really believe me anyway – mostly because it just feels kinda creepy.” He paused for a moment to sigh. Impatience built inside me, wondering what he was talking about. “I don’t know how or why, but I just kinda, know things about people. Things that feel like I shouldn’t really be privy to, especially when it comes to people I’ve just met. It’s how I found your home. I, um, wanted to talk to you in person and after some aimless wandering around the neighbourhood, my brain was absolutely sure that this was where you lived. And sure enough, it was right.”

What in the? What was he talking about? He couldn’t possibly be serious… could he? It all sounded too absurd. Then again, I’d changed the sex of three people. That wasn’t exactly something I thought possible previously. “Uhhhhhh,” was all I could manage.

“I know it sounds completely fake, but let me prove it,” he continued. “Your middle name is Eric.”

I frowned. I’d never told him my middle name. Though it wasn’t out of the question that he’d discovered it elsewhere. He could have taken a peek at one of the roll sheets at school and learnt it from that. Or he could have asked my dad or brother. Unlikely, but still plausible. If he wanted to trick me into believing him, he’d need to do better than that.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Jaxon posited, interrupting my thoughts. I shook my head. What he was saying was a little too farfetched for me to accept without more evidence. He had presented an outlandish claim, a claim of supernatural abilities. And even if I had my own unnatural power, I still needed definitive proof. “You are seventeen years, one hundred and thirteen days, eleven hours, and twenty nine minutes old.”

That was an extremely precise number. Getting the age in years correct wasn’t too surprising; basically everyone in our year level was seventeen by now. The number of days definitely piqued my interest, though I wasn’t sure of exactly how many days ago my birthday was. Who kept track of that? I turned to my computer and did a quick search, calculating the date one hundred and thirteen days ago.

…

It was my birthday.

How in the?

I knew that I also hadn’t told him my birthday. It was never relevant. He had to have asked my dad at some point. A bit strange to give my precise age rather than my birth date, though perhaps that was the point. His absurd theory was becoming more believable, I had to admit. Still, I didn’t consider this hard proof.

“Still sceptical? Your brother’s middle name is Sebastian, and he is ten years, two hundred and thirty nine days old.”

Ok. This was getting a bit ridiculous. Just to confirm, I calculated the date two hundred and thirty nine days ago, and sure enough it was my brother’s birthday. So, he knew mine and James’ full names and precise ages, supposedly without having to ask. Either he was telling the truth, or he was really good at sleuthing for private information on other people. Having known him for this long, I highly suspected that was not the case. With the knowledge that impossible abilities did indeed exist, I was leaning towards believing him. I was about ninety seven percent sure he was telling the truth.

That brought up even more questions. Such as: why was he able to do this? And how was he able to do this? Could he glean more information about people? If so, what? That got me thinking about my own power. I never asked for it, I never wanted it, and it had caused nothing but pain. Perhaps this was also the case for Jaxon? It seemed plausible at the very least.

I opened my mouth to speak, to ask any of the questions that were swimming in my brain, but nothing came out. I wasn’t sure what to say or where to begin. Jaxon noticed my hesitancy and spoke up again, “It’s creepy, isn’t it?”

A little bit. But also kind of useful? Never forget anyone’s name or birthday again. I was sure that people in his life appreciated that aspect, assuming they didn’t know about this strange ability that he possessed. “Kind of,” I managed to say after a moment’s thought.

“I knew it,” he groaned, laying down on my bed with his hands covering his face. He rubbed at his eyes in frustration. “I’m just a freak. I wish I could turn it off, but I can’t. Every time I look at someone, I get bombarded with information that I didn’t ask for or want.”

I thought back to the weekend, where Jaxon was absolutely sure of my own sexuality despite me never having mentioned it. Could he discern a person’s sexuality, with perfect accuracy, just by looking at them? It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“Is a, um, person’s sexuality included in that?”

“Yes.”

“So, the other week… when you were arguing with your sister…”

“Yeah. She’s been making fun of me for it ever since I offhandedly mentioned that I have a functional gaydar. She doesn’t believe me because why would she? That’s why she acted the way she did when you were over by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Oh.” Ok, I could see why he thought this was creepy. That was pretty creepy.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” he pleaded. I nodded. Not like anyone would believe me anyway. “Thanks. I knew I could trust you.”

Another silence washed over the room. My mind continued to overflow with thoughts about Jaxon’s ability. I wasn’t the only one who had some kind of strange, supernatural power. Were there others with what should otherwise be impossible abilities? Or were Jaxon and I the only ones? Why did we even have them in the first place? I didn’t ask for mine, and Jaxon hadn’t either. Was it purely random? Or was there a rhyme and reason that I was unaware of?

Wait. If Jaxon knew the full names of people he’d met… then…

I froze. My heart rate quickened and my palms began to perspire. He knew my dad’s full name. And his middle name wasn’t plausibly unisex like his first. Joe Patrick Ashford. What would Jaxon think about my dad knowing that? I’d introduced him as my mother. That was not a name that mothers have. Would he put the pieces together? Oh fuck this was bad. Really really bad.

“Ben, are you ok?” Jaxon said, sounding rather worried. “What’s wrong?”

My vision snapped to his concerned visage. Through the quickened breathing, I struggled to get out just a few words. “I think you should leave,” I said softly. He couldn’t be here anymore. He needed to go. I couldn’t have him putting two and two together. He needed to stay away from my family. I couldn’t risk him finding out about my secret. I couldn’t risk losing him.

“What’s the matter?”

“Go away.”

He stared at me for a moment, still worried about my sudden shift in demeanor. I sincerely hoped that he wasn’t capable of reading minds else I’d be screwed. With a sigh, he stood up, still giving me that concerned expression. “Ok. I’ll go. Bye.”

I didn’t return the farewell, though he waited for it. He exited my room, and then my home, without a word.

Just my fucking luck that my first friend in years would be the one person most well equipped to discover what was fucking wrong with me and my family. I wanted to cry, but no tears came.