As we arrive back at our house, I reach out and lightly touch my mom's arm to get her attention. She turns to face me, and I hesitantly ask, “How did I do today?”

  She gives me a warm smile and pats my shoulder. “You did a great job and I couldn't help but notice that you had an admirer.”

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah. You mean Jeremy. He might have a crush on me. He even asked David about me.”

  She almost smirks as she says, “He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.”

  Sighing heavily, I ask, “Seriously? Did you have to bring that up?”

  A warm, loving smile spreads across her face as she tenderly tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Her touch is soft and comforting. “Sweetheart,” she murmurs, “as beautiful as you are, you're going to have to get used to all the attention. Especially once you make it onto the cheerleading squad.” The thought fills me with both excitement and nervousness, knowing that being part of the squad means being in the spotlight and under scrutiny from others.

  I shake my head adamantly, my hair swaying around me with the force. “Absolutely not, no way. I’m not even remotely ready for boys,” I protest vehemently. The mere thought of boys liking me sends a cold chill of anxiety down my spine. I feel far too unprepared for such attention and everything that comes with it.

  A gentle smile touches her lips as she casually shrugs, a gesture that is both comforting and dismissive. “It doesn't matter if you feel prepared or not,” she says in a soothing tone. “At your age, boys start to truly take notice of girls. It's a natural part of growing up, Sweetheart. There's no escaping it.” She pauses for a moment, studying my face before pyfully adding, “Or do you like girls instead?” Her words are ced with amusement and curiosity, leaving room for me to reveal my feelings without judgment.

  As I struggle to find the right words, I feel my frustration building inside me. I take a deep breath and try to expin my feelings differently. “Honestly, it’s hard for me to understand, too. Chel was more than just a friend, I thought we could potentially be something more, like boyfriend and girlfriend. Then again, everyone saw me as a boy, so it was almost expected for us to end up together at some point. I never even considered questioning it.” My hands fidget nervously as I try to convey the complicated mix of emotions whirling in me.

  The air is tense and charged with my anxiety, the weight of a decision hanging over me like a dark cloud. Mom tries to reassure me by pcing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry,” she says gently. “You have plenty of time to think about it before you have to make a choice. In the meantime, I’d love nothing more than to see you embrace who you are and see where that takes you.” The knot in my stomach loosens a little and my tension eases somewhat while I consider what she said.

  My hesitation and confusion must have been written all over my face because she smiles, her expression gentle and understanding. She reaches out a hand to caress my cheek, the warmth of her fingertips against my skin grounding me. “That means stop thinking that I don't want to do or like this or that because I'm not supposed to,” she says softly. “You have acting like a girl down fairly well, but in a lot of respects, you're still thinking like a boy.” The raw truth of her statement leaves me feeling both vulnerable and exposed. She crouches down to meet my eyes, her own filled with compassion and wisdom. “Honey, we both know you are nothing like your brother or father. Your interests and theirs are completely different. So embrace who you are. In fact, why don’t you use this as an opportunity to redefine yourself. If you want to dress and act cutely, then go for it. No matter what you choose, I’ll support you.” The world around us seems to fade into the background, her words becoming the only thing I can focus on. A new feeling stirs within me: acceptance and encouragement, repcing the self-doubt and confusion pguing me.

  I can't deny it; Mom is right. We all enjoy the typical outdoorsy activities; hiking, camping, skiing, canoeing, and the like. My dad and brother are huge sports fans, both pying and watching, but that's just not me. I've always been drawn to things that are traditionally associated with girls. It's time for me to fully embrace who I’ve always been and let go of any expectations, whether they come from myself or others. The past is behind me and it's time to focus on the present. That means stepping out of my comfort zone and trying new things, experimenting with different styles, and forging my own path. As for boys... well, that's an entirely different story and one that I'm not quite ready to tackle just yet.

  However, the question lingers in my mind, refusing to budge until asked. “What if I don’t want to do that?” I ask, my tone serious, yet hesitant. My question hangs with my uncertainty clearly stated in the way I asked it.

  She lets out a small ugh before smiling warmly as she softly strokes my hair. “Who do you think you're talking to?” She asks, her voice full of understanding. “I pay attention to all of my kids. I've been aware for some time now that you’re different from your father and brother. Do you really believe I haven’t noticed the way your eyes linger on your sister when she’s dressed up or the subtle comments you make without even realizing it? Darling daughter of mine, I'm not asking you to be someone you're not. What I want is for you to be who you truly are and discover what you want to become. Nothing more and nothing less.”

  I give a simple nod, and my mom stands up straight. “Okay, go take a shower before the chlorine in your hair damages it, and don't forget to use conditioner, especially after today.”

  As she begins to walk away, I find myself reaching out for her, yearning to hold on to the fleeting connection we just shared. “Mom,” I call out, my voice small and uncertain. She pauses and turns to face me, her expression a mix of curiosity and love. “Thank you,” I continue, my words heavy with emotion. “For talking with me and trying to help me understand.” My heart swells with love and gratitude towards this woman who has always been my rock. “I know I still have a lot to figure out,” I add with a rueful smile, “but at least now I know where to start.” A tear escapes down my cheek as I whisper something that’s always been difficult for me to say: “I love you, Mom.”

  She takes a small step back to me, her hand gently caressing my hair, and kisses my forehead. I can feel the warmth of her body as she embraces me tightly, my face pressed against her breasts. The scent of her perfume fills my senses and I almost want to cry. “I can’t make these decisions for you,” she whispers tenderly, “that is something only you can do. No matter what you choose, I’ll love you.” She sighs. “God knows, you have so much to deal with right now, and I wish there was more I could do to help.” She gently pushes me back and lifts my face. “They say that one is never given more than they can handle. You are far stronger than your brother and father in that respect. The women in this family have always been strong, and that means you are too. I believe in you, Sweetheart.”

  Tears cascade down my cheeks like tiny streams. My voice trembles as I choke out the words, “Thank you, Mommy.” The lump in my throat threatens to suffocate me as I try to convey the depth of my gratitude in those simple words. My mother’s embrace is warm and comforting as she gently brushes away my tears and kisses my forehead again. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, gives me one final smile, and walks away.

  As I stand there feeling a little lost, but with a general direction to explore, I wonder how everything turned out to be so emotional and heavy. Sighing heavily, I slowly make my way to my room, undress, and climb into the shower.

  On the bright side, Mom’s right. Nobody ever questioned my gender, even though my swimsuit didn't leave much to the imagination. I presented myself as a girl and was accepted as one. Take Jeremy for example; although he made me feel uneasy, it was clear that he only saw me as an attractive girl. Apparently, he even has a bit of a crush on me. Well, maybe it's not quite a crush, but at least he's curious enough to ask about me. Then there’s me teasing him. It might have been fun to see him squirm a bit, but it also felt empowering. Plus, the attention made me feel a bit special, girly, and even warm inside. I can’t expin that to save my life.

  As for Kelly, I believe we are going to be good friends. I’m hoping the same for Emma as well. Unfortunately, she wasn’t at the party today. It would have been nice if she was because it would have made the day even more fun, but Kelly said that her family went to see her maternal grandparents.

  Speaking of Kelly; I was surprisingly interested in everything she showed me in her room. Maybe it's because I've always had a soft spot for cute things, which might be reted to the fact that I was never a boy. Oh! Let's not forget how much I envied girls for all their options, especially when it came to clothing. It's like I always knew deep down that I wasn't a boy. Things will work out somehow, and worrying about it won't change anything anyway.

  As I exit the shower, I stand in front of the mirror and begin to dry myself off. As my reflection stares back at me, I whisper, “Tell me, who are you? What type of girl do you want to be?”

  Those a rather profound questions and ones I need to answer, soon. Back in my room, I slip into one of the silk nightgowns Mom bought me. Originally, I might not have wanted them, but I can't deny how much I enjoy the feel of the fabric against my skin. Especially the sensations the silk creates as it slides across my nipples, which sends delicious shivers down my spine.

  That night, my dreams were of being born a girl and living my life as one. I see myself as the person I've always wanted to be; a girl with long, flowing hair, wearing skirts, dresses, shorts, and cute tops. I’m surrounded by friends and I’m truly happy. It's unusual for me to remember more than fragments of my dreams, but this time, they linger on as a clear indication of the girl I desire to be.

  I smile like the cat who ate the canary as I stretch and yawn my way to wakefulness, excited for the day ahead. I quickly clean up, sther myself with sunscreen, and change into comfortable clothes: shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt, ankle socks, and sports shoes. After grabbing a quick snack downstairs, I head out because today, Emma and Kelly are going to begin teaching me what I need to know to become a cheerleader. I’ll admit, initially, I wasn't thrilled about the idea of being a cheerleader, but now that I’ve been shown who I am, I’m going to fully embrace it and everything else about me. It's a big step for me, but deep down I’ve always known this was who I wanted to be, I simply chose to ignore it.

  As soon as I finish my meal and rinse out my bowl, the doorbell rings. I quickly make my way to the door and open it, only to be greeted by Kelly bursting in and wrapping me in a warm hug. Her cheerful voice echoes through the room as she says, “Good morning!”

  Startled, I cry out, “Whoa!” Chel wasn't all that physically affectionate, so needless to say, I was caught off guard by Kelly’s sudden hug. But instead of resisting, I decide to just go with it; it's not like I hate it or anything, so I return her hug. Gncing at Emma, I can't help but ask, “Is this normal for her?”

  Emma simply shrugs nonchantly and fshes a grins. “Pretty much, so you might as well prepare yourself for lots of hugs. Are you ready?”

  I disentangle myself from Kelly as a smile forms on my lips. “Yep. More than ready.”

  “Cool,” she says eagerly and grins. “We’re doing this at my house since my parents bought a mat for me to train on. They were tired of seeing me covered in bruises while I was trying to perfect a move.”

  Emma turns to leave and Kelly grabs my hand to follow her, dragging me along with her until we reach Emma’s backyard. Believe me when I say Emma is rather demanding. Now, that doesn’t mean that I dislike her or anything remotely like that. It’s simply that she’s hard to please when it comes to getting things correct. For example: my voice wasn’t loud enough, so we ran through the same cheer over and over until she was satisfied that I could be heard what I would estimate to be 2 blocks away.

  We worked on the basic moves, kicks, and jumps. All thanks to the flexibility and experience I got from karate, I did rather well at most of them, other than remembering to keep my toes pointed. I never knew there were so many basic moves though. Toe touch, herkie, pike, kicks, right, left, and center splits, bow and arrow, bridge, punch, hands-on-hips, touchdown, candlesticks, and diagonals, amongst a lot of other moves, which she didn’t get into. Oh, and lest I forget, I have to smile at all times while doing this, no matter how hard it might be to keep one pasted on.

  Then she wanted to see how good at tumbling I am. She has me perform back handsprings, tucks, handstands, cartwheels, and round-offs. It’s a little before noon when she calls it a day for us, which I’m rather thankful for since I’m dripping with sweat and my bra is saturated as well so it’s chafing me.

  Kelly notices me fussing with my bra and asks what's the matter. I'm taken aback by her shocked expression when I mention that my bra is chafing me. This prompts more questions from her, followed by her recommendation to switch to sports bras and dance shorts for a greater range of movement and less chance of chafing.

  We agree to meet up after lunch so they can give me a tour of the area. I head back home and take a refreshing shower. Once I'm dry, I change into a dark blue pleated skirt, a pink halter top, and put on some cute pink ruffled ankle socks with my white and pink sports shoes. While eating a quick lunch, I catch up with my mom.