Zoey’s Story

[CW: Violence, Self-Harm Threat, Queerphobia]

“We’re so damn busy patting ourselves on the back for electing a gay president and getting all these states flipped blue that we’ve forgotten what it’s like being queer in the states that didn’t flip. The places where they dug in their heels and made our lives a living hell. We had to go back to the dark ages of hiding and protecting ourselves because our state government is determined to see us disappear. And no matter how much federal reform you manage to pass, it doesn’t make a difference if you won’t fucking enforce it! Yes, I know the secessionists of the GOP are making a lot of noise in the Senate right now, but the Democrat and Progressive parties outnumber them now. Did you guys forget that or did you never care in the first place? Was it always an act to fundraise donations because we used to have no alternative?

When I work with the Democrats, I’m so tired of watching them wave their rainbow flags with one hand and sit on the other hand with their thumb up their ass as they watch us crushed by state-sponsored facism. Bunch of two-faced-[Mic cut] ”

-Natalia Morrison-Taylor, Progressive Party, US Senator for Georgia, during her first abruptly censored speech on the Senate floor, March 2033 
________________________________________

I was grateful to see that I was beginning to improve in my fighting prowess.

The clack of impacting weapons was becoming more familiar and my arms weren’t quite as tortured by the impacts of Marianne’s bladework.

“Watch your feet,” insisted Marianne, carefully circling around me, sword outstretched as her eyes met mine. “You need to be able to step lightly, right up until the point that you dig in for power.”

I nodded, keeping the handle of my hammer at the ready to deflect any of her blows. Sweat was beading on my forehead and the stupid marshmallow-like suit I was wearing didn’t breathe all that well. I felt like I was fighting in an oven, but I was beginning to grow accustomed to it.

Forging in a hot cave for hours a day helped.

“I’ve been hearing about human attacks in other cities,” I said, vividly remembering my confrontation with Jacob.

Marianne nodded grimly. “People are getting nervous... lots of folks remember the Ser-Varr Purge and fear that the old human madness will erupt again.” She swung in without warning, but I had gotten better at reading her moves.

“There are still Guardians,” I said, my face set as I swept away her strike. “There are still people willing to stand and fight for this world.”

Marianne hesitated, and I took the opportunity to try to disarm her by hooking my handle against her blade and twisting.

It didn’t quite work out as she almost automatically slipped out and set her blade against my neck. It was wood, but I still felt my skin break out into goosebumps and my breath catch in my throat at the sensation. I nodded and took a step back.

“Zoey...” she said painfully, “I’m not doing this to teach you to go out in a blaze of glory. I’m teaching you how to fight so you can stay alive. The Guardians were martyrs. Don’t take stupid risks. I don’t want those… grief-eaters to take you away from me.”

I wanted to shoot back that it didn’t matter. That I would just respawn somewhere else. But it did matter. I would end up on the opposite side of the world. I would be separated from every friend I’d made here. I’d have to start over again. I couldn’t forget what was at stake, despite how much I hated the griefers.

“I’m... sorry...” I said, hanging my head.

Marianne sighed as she stepped over and raised my chin with her hand. “Zoey... it means a lot to me to see how much you care. But the one thing I want more than anything else is to keep you breathing. I want you to keep being my friend.” She chuckled. “Also if you go off and die, I have to find a new roommate to do the chores and I can’t bear such a thing.”

I snorted. “Right… sorry for being so selfish.”

“Look... you wanna call it here?” said Marianne, looking up at the orange sky. “I’m starving.”

My stomach grumbled in agreement and my aching muscles seconded the motion. “Sure...”

As we packed up and I shouldered my equipment, I found myself worrying about Jacob and his friends. All the people like him. Who were so convinced that God was on their side that they would do anything without a single speck of guilt. I was terrified of hurting Marianne in our training and I was still not quite certain I could hurt someone, even if my life was on the line.

The scripture that Jacob read… had Jesus really said that? About beating people? What about the Jesus who fed the hungry and healed the sick? It truly did feel like we were worshiping different gods. I wasn’t sure which one was real… but I would have been terrified to think that Jacob’s god was the one calling the shots.

“Something wrong?” asked Marianne, tucking her wooden blade into her belt. “You seem… distant…”

I heaved out a sigh. Would she understand? “I… Can I ask you a strange question?”

She snorted, smirking. “I would be more surprised if you asked me an ordinary one. Tell me.”

“Do… do you… or… do the people around here believe in God?” I asked, trying to process the realization that I was discussing religion with a computer program.

“...Which god?” asked Marianne, confused, “And… what do you mean, ‘believe’? You mean which god do I worship?”

“You believe in more than one?” I asked, frowning. This was slightly more confusing than Beth’s beliefs in Wiccanism.

“...Again, the word ‘believe’ is confusing me here,” said Marianne, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised her eyebrows at me. “The gods aren’t some kind of myth or legend… they’re real. I’ve seen their chosen followers work miracles before with my own eyes. My father wouldn’t have survived his wounds without the healing from a mender in service of The Renewer.”

“So… the gods here actually exist? And they do miracles?” I asked, frowning.

“Wouldn’t be much good in following gods who didn’t do anything,” said Marianne, snorting. She quirked her head to the side. “Why are you asking this?”

“I…” I heaved out a sigh, “I know there are humans out there right now who do some terrible things.”

“The Grief-Eaters?” 

I nodded. “Yeah… and they do it because they’re sure that their god tells them it’s okay. They think it’s okay to hate people or hurt them because their holy book says that they are automatically good and everyone else is evil.”

“Is this their god, Ser-Varr?” asked Marianne, staring at me thoughtfully.

“Who?” I said, my turn to be confused.

“When the humans began their slaughter, they called it a Ser-Varr Purge or a Ser-Varr Wipe, depending on what sources you believe,” said Marianne patiently, “We’d always assumed it was a god or demon or something that had commanded the humans to carnage.”

Ser-Varr Purge. I frowned as I tried to understand what she was talking about.

Then it hit me. Ser-Varr.

Server. The Server Purge or Server Wipe.

“No… Ser-Varr is…” I tried to find the words for another moment or two, “Like the human word for ‘world’ I guess. They thought the world was coming to an end so they could do whatever they wanted and not get in any kind of trouble.”

Marianne nodded, frowning as she stared at the ground in front of her. “I… I don’t know much about your human myths… I do know that during the Purge… when humans ran rampant… many of us cried out to the gods for salvation and were not heard. The people wondered if the human god of slaughter had overpowered all other gods… but… when the humans departed… all at once, with no sign of their presence and did not return… we realized that our prayers had been answered. And as we pledged devotion to our gods, we began to see more miracles. The gods would choose their champions and grant them boons.”

“The Renewer was able to gift healing unto their followers, the menders. The Scalekeeper chose champions to defend justice, her justicars. The Archivist would bestow knowledge to her lorekeepers. The Hunter would offer bountiful spoils of nature to their druids. The Artificer would inspire ideas for wondrous creations to their inventors. All of the gods would provide power to the truly worthy.”

"But the age of the blessed came with a cost," She forced out a sigh. “Then… the seers, the chosen of the Fateweaver, the god of prophecy and fate… began to proclaim that the humans would one day return. None of us wanted to believe it, but as their other prophecies began to come true, we had to face facts: The humans would come back… and we would have to discover for ourselves if that was for good or for ill.”

She reached down her shirt and pulled out a symbol on a chain. Something in the shape of a… pot? A cauldron? It was a smooth, polished metal that gleamed like chrome.

“My mother was a devout follower of the Hearthkeeper. A god of hospitality, of safety and of peace,” she said, showing me the symbol. She broke into a smile. “I was never certain if her meals were so tasty from her devotion to her god or just from her practiced skill… but I know that so many who ate with us left our company as friends. Faith is not just about miracles, but how we shape ourselves to treat others.” 

My stomach grumbled again, this time more insistently.

“And now,” said Marianne, nodding to me with a renewed smile as she stored her necklace back under her shirt. “We shall partake in a little worship of our own. Hearthkeeper be praised!”

We laughed on our way back to the apartment. It was more a laugh of shared exhaustion and hunger. I offered to make dinner, still trying to learn how to cook the way Marianne did. I wouldn’t dare to try it in real life, but it just made sense here. In the face of all of the evil and cruelty in the world outside, RoEM felt like home.

I tried to think about what Marianne said. That the gods of this place might be more real than the ones outside. But, real or not, the god of my church shaped people into becoming crueler and more heartless people. Whatever god I chose to follow… I wanted it to be a god who would inspire me to become a kinder person. Like Marianne.

Suddenly, there was a bloodcurdling scream that shattered that moment of contentment into a thousand jagged shards.

Without thinking, both of us sprinted in the direction of the scream. I dropped the padded outfit and the shield, only grasping the hammer in my hands. In the distance we saw two forms down by one of the small paths leading out from the woods. One body was facedown on the ground, next to a small, overturned cart and roughly cut logs scattered around. 

Another figure, a small one, was wearing a cloak and holding something in their hand and looming over the facedown body.

As I got closer, I saw it was a gleaming blade, wet with blood. The figure was holding a knife.

The two of them were outside a small shack, a sort of woodcutter’s cabin, judging by the pile of lumber set next to the shack.

As we got closer, I realized who was laying on the ground. It was Seamus. The same old carpenter who had made my hammer. The same man who had been so kind to us. Even afterwards, whenever we saw him in town, he would stop to make conversation. Always with that bright smile.

“Seamus!” Marianne shrieked, her voice broken in panic, “No!”

The attacker looked up at us in alarm.

He was small. Lean, with short, sandy hair. Younger than me by at least a few years. I wondered for a moment if he was even old enough to play this game. He stumbled back... the knife in his hands and the front of his cloak were covered in blood.

Seamus was crumpled to the ground, clinging to the wound as his clothes and the ground beneath him became stained with a crimson bloom streaming through his clenched fingers. Marianne rushed to his aid, putting herself between him and the boy.

“Get back!” she roared, instantly trying to see to his wounds. “Zoey! Stop the human!”

I interposed myself between them, holding my hammer at the ready.

The boy shook, his face pale as he looked upon his handiwork and looked up at me pleadingly. “It’s... it’s not... I didn’t think...” he squeaked, still stepping away. “I didn’t know it would... I just wanted his ax...”

I stepped forward, whether to confront the boy or protect the man I couldn’t decide, and he flinched as I approached, raising the knife at me. “Get away!” he shouted, slashing it through the air, leaving flecks of blood in its wake, “I mean it! I’ll kill you!”

I could kill him. The thought immediately snapped to the forefront to my mind. Seamus could die because of this stupid kid. He was just like Jacob... seeing people as targets. Just because they were elves meant that they didn’t matter. Even as he bled out and might die, this little brat only saw another loot box with legs. He didn’t see Seamus as a real person.

The grip on my hammer tightened for a moment, preparing for a swing. But the feeling faded as I looked over the attacker. In his wide eyes and shaking hands I saw an all-too-familiar expression. One I'd seen too many times to count in my own reflection.

He was scared. He was afraid. He was a child. And... maybe... he didn’t need to become like Jacob and his god of cruelty. 

I dropped my hammer to the side, letting it fall to the ground with a thump. The boy flinched in alarm as I did so.

I raised my hands. “Hey... hey... I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, my voice coming out surprisingly calm considering my heart was all but vibrating in my chest. “My name’s Zoey... what’s yours?”

The boy scowled. “I’m Bloodclaw,” he said defiantly, “I’m knight of the Steel Crusade... we’re gonna take over all of RoEM... we are legion and we-“

“My name is Zoey,” I said, calmly talking over him, “I live here in Whiteoak Falls. I work in the forges.” I pointed over my shoulder to Marianne as she tried to staunch the bleeding. “That’s my friend Marianne... and the man on the ground is named Seamus... he works at the wood shop. He does woodworking and carving... he has friends... he has family.” I had to choke down that last word. He talked about a son and a wife from time to time. I could only hope that they weren't about to lose him.

I took another step forward and “Bloodclaw” winced, still stepping back and waving his knife around. “Get back! I don’t care what anybody’s name is! They’re just stupid NPCs! I’m a Crusader! Deus Vult!” Those last two words came out in a howl of defiance.

“Then kill me too,” I said, softly, staring hard into his eyes. I was done with this. I was done watching people get hurt. And I needed to believe that some people were better than Jacob and his crew. “Take that knife. Drive it into me. Watch my blood spill out into the ground like his… Because I’m not moving otherwise.”

The boy gaped at Seamus as Marianne tore strips of cloth off her dress to cover the wound and bind it tight. “It’s... it’s not like that in other games,” he murmured, “You just shoot them and they fall down. They don’t scream like that...” “Bloodclaw” winced at the sight. “I... I don’t want to play this game anymore...”

“It’s okay...” I said, stepping even closer. I could feel the knife poking into the stomach of my dress, but thankfully the boy didn’t put any pressure into it. “I get it. RoEM isn’t like other games... but you don’t need to hurt anybody here...”

The boy screwed up his face and I felt the knife break my skin as it sank in, slightly piercing the cloth of my dress and into the fat of my stomach. I hissed with the pain as the point broke into my flesh, but didn’t move. I could do this.

“They’re not real!” shouted “Bloodclaw”, tears pouring from his eyes, “they’re just NPCs! They’re just computers! They don’t feel!”

“I do...” I said, my voice quiet. “And right now... you are hurting me.”

The pain in RoEM wasn’t as severe as it was in real life. It was dialed down. But all the same, it still wasn’t pleasant to have a knife sticking into me, even if it was a flesh wound.

He looked down at the knife and I saw with some unease that a small stain of blood was blooming on my clothes. Again, I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

“Just... just move... please...” said the boy, openly sobbing. “Why don’t you get out of the way?! You don’t need to do this! They’re just NPCs! Nobody cares!”

“I care. Because Marianne is my friend... NPC or not,” I said, keeping my gaze trained on “Bloodclaw” as he desperately tried to avoid it. “And I will be very upset if I lose her. Seamus has been very nice to me and Marianne. If you kill either of them... they don’t drop gold or experience... they’re just gone and they don’t come back...  And people are left to grieve in their absence.”

“This is stupid!” said the boy, drawing back the knife and wiping at his tears. “Why would they make a game like this?”

“Honestly,” I said, relaxing a little as the knife was no longer stabbing me. “There are enough games out there about killing enemies over and over. I like that we have a game where you can create things instead of destroying them.”

The boy looked down at his knife, his hands shaking. In the distance, shouts were audible. Whistles. The town guard was coming. 

“Bloodclaw” sniffled as he uneasily began to twirl the knife in his hands towards his throat. “N-no prisoners...” he whispered. “Time to respawn…”

“What’s your real name?!” I said, frantically, as I realized what he was about to do. “Please... tell me your real name!”

He sniffled, frozen. “S-Steven...”

“Okay, Steven,” I said, looking into his eyes. “Listen to me. I don’t want you to hurt yourself either. Even if you respawn... if you do this… you won’t be here anymore… and when you’re gone I’ll miss you, too...”

“What?” said Steven, blinking in alarm. “But... but you don’t even know me! And I hurt your friend!” He scowled at me. “You’re lying... this is just a trick...”

“No tricks,” I said, shaking my head, “I mean it... I don’t think this is you... I don’t think you want to be a killer… You don’t need to be a griefer. I want you to stay here and experience this place for more than the loot and levels. This game isn’t about XP. It’s about experience. You can make friends here, Steven. And... if you put down that knife... I’d like to be your friend too...”

Steven closed his eyes, taking a breath. His hands stopped shaking and the voices of the guard became louder. I heard Leon shouting at him to stop. I held my breath, praying to any god, real or digital, that Steven wouldn’t...

He didn’t. He dropped the knife and collapsed onto his knees. He started sobbing and, without thinking, I knelt down and wrapped him up in my arms. I felt him shake and wail into my chest. My stomach still twinged, but I tried to focus on keeping Steven calm.

“I’m sorry...” Steven said between sobs, “I’m sorry.”

A hand was set on my shoulder. I looked up to see Leon, looking down on me, his armor gleaming in the setting sun. Behind him, his partner Frieda looked ready to kill. She had drawn out a crossbow and pointed at me.

“Get away from the criminal now!” barked Frieda furiously.

“Please!” I begged, “he’s just a kid! He didn’t know!” I held out my arms to defend the child.

“Didn’t know what!?” said Frieda incredulously, “that people die when you stab them?! Back away, Zoey! I will arrest you too if you don’t!”

I looked up to Leon. “Leon, please! He’s just a kid! The griefers pushed him into it! Please!”

Leon looked over his shoulder and gestured for Frieda to lower her weapon. It took her a long and difficult moment but she inched her crossbow away from us. Leon breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to me. “We need to take him in, Zoey,” he said, his voice rough. “I promise he’ll get a fair hearing, but I can’t just let this go.”

I looked back to Seamus. Marianne was currently carrying him in her arms, his wound wrapped around with cloth. I looked at her expectantly, desperately hoping that...

She nodded. “He’s still breathing... he needs a healer... there’s a Renewer temple south of here. I can make it to the menders before nightfall if I ride fast enough.” Her gaze coldly regarded Steven for a moment before she turned back to me. “I need to go.”

“Travel safe.” I said, and nodded and she left, carrying Seamus gingerly in her arms.

Leon reached down and produced a pair of shackles from a pouch on his belt. “I’m sorry...” he said hoarsely, leaning down to snap them on Steven’s wrists with a harsh rasp. The boy flinched, but dutifully followed Leon as he dragged him forward. Frieda, meanwhile, had collected Steven’s knife and had put it in a satchel bag as evidence.

I followed Steven closely. “I want to come with him...” I said, my voice firm. “I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“You humans,” spat Frieda dismissively. “This boy is a hair’s breadth from being a murderer and stabbed you in the gut and you want to follow him around like a lost puppy?!” She scowled at me. “What about Seamus, huh? What about his pain? Why aren’t you defending him?!”

Leon looked as if he would speak to her, but I cut across him. I wasn’t about to be called out like this, and after this whole incident, I was still a frantic and keyed-up.

And I needed them to understand.

“You don’t get it! People like Steven are bullied and coerced into this! They’re expected to be great warriors and have piles of gold and weapons, but nobody tells them the cost of it! We’re taught to treat non-humans like... pests! Numbers! We’re taught that you don’t really matter... that you aren’t real people... but it’s all a lie!” I felt my voice shaking as I said it, but I swallowed hard and continued to speak. They needed to hear this. 

“I love my new home! And you are real! You have feelings and hearts and everything! I couldn’t imagine being without Marianne and Gresh and Alexander and everyone else! I...” I wiped as my tears blurred my vision. “I just want everyone else to be able to experience this world like I have... I want everyone to find their home here...”

Frieda exhaled a sigh through her nose, turning away from me, stowing her crossbow away. “Ugh... stop blubbering like that... it’s undignified.”

I looked to Steven who seemed to be mostly hollow and empty as Leon led him along. His face was drawn and pale, but I saw him look at me and give a faint, brittle smile.

“So... which crew were you with?” asked Leon, breaking the silence as he looked down at Steven.

“Uh... the Steel Crusade,” said Steven in a quiet voice. “They... they said if I killed someone... and brought back a real weapon... that I could join them...”

“How old are you?” asked Leon, frowning at him.

“Thirteen,” said Steven, not meeting his gaze.

Leon let the question sit for a moment before repeating it. “How old are you, Steven?”

“T-twelve...” sighed Steven. “I turn thirteen next year...”

“Look, kiddo,” said Leon, wincing visibly. “I’m not going to tell you what games are or aren’t appropriate for you. I’m not your dad. But I’m going to say that your choices have consequences... game or no.” He chuckled. “I get it... I was there when I was your age. You beat the monsters, get the gold and level up and do it again. The graphics weren’t quite this good, but I get it. But if there’s any problem that’s come from the whole ‘realism’ trend in games... it’s that you have to deal with the reality that comes with it. Murder has consequences.”

I grimaced at that. I had tried to use RoEM as a place to escape my problems. It was the place where I could feel like a real girl. But that reality didn’t go away when I logged off. The game might be code, but the feelings that came with it were real. And the people who hurt others like this were just as real in and out of the game.

“The griefers...” continued Leon, “are out to prove something. They want to prove that they’re the strongest. That they’re strong enough to break the game. To take this place and bend it according to their own will. To kill any monster. To hold power over everyone else. But... take it from someone who’s seen violence like that in real life... the first casualty is always yourself. The part of you that’s screaming inside... that shame... that fear... it’s there for a reason. A reminder that you’re still human. You can still care about others...”

Steven swallowed hard. “N-nobody cares about me in the real world...” he said, sniffing, “My parents are always working... and... and the other guys on the server... they told me I could join them... I could be a part of something bigger... I... I just had to...”

He broke off into sobbing again. I stood up next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Leon looked at me with a weary smile on his face. “You did good, Zoey... I don’t care what anyone says... today, you acted like a paladin.”

I snorted. “Yeah right...”

“You know what makes a paladin?” said Leon.

“Uh... armor? Holy magic?” I said, shrugging. “You gotta tank damage for the rest of your party? I guess I technically did that.” I massaged my stab wound, which thankfully seemed to have begun to heal.

“Paladins stand for justice, Zoey,” sighed Leon, “they defend the weak and stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. It’s not about getting a certain number of levels or having the right powers or equipment. Being a paladin isn’t a character class. It’s a lifestyle. It’s about caring for others even when it’s hard. Even when everyone else has counted them out. It’s about believing that everyone, no matter what, still has that little spark of light inside of them.”

I felt myself held afloat from his words. It had never occurred to me that what I was doing was anything brave or grand. It was just the right thing to do. But in the face of so much ugliness and darkness, maybe doing the right thing was just as fantastically incredible as calling upon holy magic or slaying a dragon or whatever.

There was no denying the fact that it was hard to stay with Steven as he was hauled into the prison. Stepping into the guardhouse was terrifying enough as all eyes snapped onto Steven with cold fury. They knew what Steven had done. And as we began to descend into a stone-lined basement, circling down stairs deep into the earth, it became clear where the prison lay. We were all but burying poor Steven alive in these twisting stone walls and iron bars, lit only by flickering lanterns. The air was cold and stale and sickening the longer I stayed within it. This was a place meant for monsters.

But as I held that scared, sobbing boy in my arms, I knew that the most monstrous thing I could do would be to leave him alone. Leon had to leave to talk to the chief constable, but he agreed that as long as I was watching him, Steven could stay in the cell with the door open. Steven agreed through his sobbing, and I nodded to Leon as I continued to comfort him.

It was strange how easy it was. To comfort a stranger in their darkest moment in the darkest place they could be. To hold someone who was supposed to be a killer. I remembered Jacob and his ranting and raving. And I wondered... did he ever have this moment of doubt and fear? Was there anyone around to help him? What was the path that would change a child like Steven into a monster like Jacob?

After some time, Leon came back. He said that Steven would have to be held in prison. There would be a trial, but given Steven’s age and situation, he was fairly confident that Steven would get some degree of leniency.

“Anything you can tell us about the Steel Crusade would go a long way towards your case,” said Leon, “We’re still trying to get as much information on griefer operations as we can.”

Steven looked sadly at the floor. “I’ll tell you what I can... but they didn’t tell me much.”

Leon nodded. “It's a start. Uh, Zoey?” He sighed. “I think you need to head back home.”

I shook my head. “Nuh uh... I made a promise.”

Leon sighed. “Zoey... we’re locking him up.”

I crossed my arms. “Then I guess you’re locking me up too. I’m not leaving him alone.”

“Zoey...” croaked Steven, pulling away from me, “it’s... it’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure?” I said, putting an arm on his shoulder.

He nodded. “Yeah... I think I can handle this... I can be brave like you.”

I broke into a smile, a warmth filling me up from the inside. “Okay... if you’re sure.”

I got up from the ground, walking out the door. Leon closed it with a slam that made me flinch.

“Just promise me you’ll visit, okay?” said Steven, rushing up to the bars.

“I will... every day until you get out,” I said, putting a hand on him, through the bars. “You can do this.”

Leon put a hand on my arm. “Come on...”

I saw Steven’s cell fade into the twisting tunnels as we left. Maybe I couldn’t stop every single griefer. Maybe I couldn’t make a difference in the fight to come. But as I walked away, I knew that I made a difference for him.

When I arrived back at the apartment, aching and weary, I stayed up as late as I could to wait for Marianne to return. She didn’t come back that night. It was probably because she had to wait with Seamus at the healing god temple. The apartment felt yawningly empty without her. I’d gotten used to talking to her as we both fell asleep.

All around me on the walls were those glittering relics of the battle, lit by flickering firelight. Reminders of what humanity had done. I realized that Marianne had fallen asleep with those hanging over her for easily over a hundred years. With the stories of her parents who had suffered by the hand of humanity.

I would change things, even if I didn’t quite know how yet. As I felt myself fading back into the real world from exhaustion, I noticed vaguely that the wound in my stomach had healed more quickly than I would have guessed.

A miracle, perhaps… but given what had unfolded between me and Steven, I couldn’t think of a greater miracle than turning an enemy into a friend.

____________________________

I woke up that morning with a sense of dread hanging over me.

Even after having to de-escalate a traumatized child with a knife and getting stabbed in the gut, I found myself dreading something far worse. The day that I was quietly hoping would never come had finally arrived.

Today was the day we would be going to a barber to cut my hair. 

Waking up from RoEM was a nightmare in its own right. Even with what happened in the game, it was at the very least something I was capable of doing. My choices mattered in RoEM. I could make a difference there. 

Here in the real world, it didn’t matter what I wanted. Dad wanted my hair cut like a boy, so that was what was going to happen. No matter what I said or did, Dad’s word was as good as law.

I was losing the only sign of femininity that I had in the real world. I would have my hair cut and there was no hope of anyone seeing me as a girl anymore. I wouldn’t be able to dress up and have anyone believe me when I told them I was Zoey.

It had always been a struggle, to be sure. I had, until now, never quite understood why I preferred my hair longer. Yes, I wasn’t fond of our hairdresser and I tended not to care much about my appearance, but something about seeing longer hair in my reflection felt right.

My parents had always been touchy about it, and I always had to tie it back so I “didn’t look like a bum”. But at the very least they had let me keep it.

Until now.

Looking into the mirror, I winced. It was messy, sure, but it was there. I wasn’t going to be able to brush it anymore. I wasn’t going to be able to feel its weight on my shoulders anymore. If I let them do this, Zoey was as good as gone.

I pushed past the agony, as I always did. There wasn’t any point in fighting it.  I forced myself through the day. There was no escape, so all I could do was tune out. Wait for sleep and to leave this ugly world behind.

The morning routine went the same way it always did. Late arrival at breakfast, snotty comments from my sister, Mom scolding me and endless worksheets to complete. Until the afternoon arrived.

We were partway through our math lesson when Mom had to cut things short. She answered a call and her face widened in shock.

“What? Oh my goodness, when? Are you on your way to the hospital? Okay... yes... I can meet you there,” Mom said, her tone agitated, “love you too, Bev.” She ended the call and looked at us across the kitchen table. “That was Aunt Bev. She took a fall. I need to go take care of her.”

My daze cleared for a moment. Aunt Bev lived an hour away, if not more. Who knew how long Mom would be out? Maybe-

“I’ll be back by the evening for your haircut. Should be able to do a walk-in.” said Mom, casually crushing my hopes as she grabbed her purse and keys. My stomach sank even deeper, as my brief flicker of possible freedom was torn away. Mom looked to Paige expectantly. “Look after your brother until I get back. Keep moving through your workbooks, I don’t want you slacking off just because I’m gone.”

“Yes, Mom,” said Paige, her face empty of any resistance, “Tell Bev that we’re thinking of her.”

“She should be fine,” said Mom, scooping up her purse and keys. “But thank you for being so thoughtful, Paige.” Mom glanced at me with a small barb of disappointment as I didn’t mirror my sister, but let it drop. “See you tonight.”

And with that, Mom stepped out the front door and was gone. Her car sounded from the garage as it navigated away from the house.

Paige immediately went from the sweet and accepting daughter to her real self. Grumpy, selfish and mean. She pulled up her own phone and made a call. 

“Ruth. Hey, Mom just had to run out for the day. Got time to kill. Yeah, it’s sweet. Yeah we should do something. You got a car, right? Mom and Dad both took ours. Ok, nice, see you in a little bit.” She paused for a little bit as she eyed me, carefully. “Yeah, you too, Ruth. See you.” She ended the call and moved to her room. Lacking anything else to do, I followed.

Paige threw open her closet, frowning at the selection in frustration. She looked critically at her current blouse and skirt and made a noise of disgust. I couldn’t help but feel frustrated by how much she had that I never could. Paige was, in essence, the closest to the Zoey I wanted to be and she barely even seemed to care.

“What are you doing in my room, mutant?” spat Paige, looking over her shoulder. I edged slightly away to hide behind the doorframe.

“Mom said... you were supposed to watch me...” I said, my voice quiet.

“Jesus Christ... you’re sixteen, dumbass...” my sister spat. “You need me to change your diaper and give you a bottle?” Her glare intensified. “Are you going to rat me out?”

I shook my head. 

“Good...” said Paige, stepping over to the door. “Then go away.” She shut it in my face.

I sighed, returning to my own room. I collapsed onto the bed helplessly. I brought up my own phone contacts and, with some disappointment, found that Gavin was offline. Probably at public school with other kids. The normal kids. The ones who had real friends who weren’t computer programs. 

I was alone. I listened to Paige murmur to herself in frustration from the next room over. I imagined, with some measure of heartbreak, what it would be like to be able to just dress up like that. To have all those clothes to choose from. And to have friends you could go out with and feel comfortable with. It was all so easy for her… and I was stuck as an ugly boy who-

I had to push those feelings away again. I couldn’t start crying again, at least until Paige left. I’d never hear the end of it.

I ached to go back to RoEM. To be able to wear my dresses and feel my body in the right shape again. Every glaring wrongness of my real-world body burned like fire. My clothes, those stupid button-down shirts and slacks Mom kept buying me, felt like a suffocating suit of armor.

Paige stomped by my room without a goodbye. Her hair was let down, she was wearing her makeup, she was dressed in jeans and, I noticed with a pang, that pink shirt I had worn in my first trip out as Zoey. She stormed out of the house. My dream life just walked past without even acknowledging me. I heard, from outside, a door slam shut and the sound of a car pulling away. I was alone again.

I sighed, rolling over. Again I looked into the mirror, knowing I was going to be disappointed by what I saw. I pulled my hair tie out and let my hair flow over my shoulders. It needed brushing. In RoEM, I had this beautiful rosewood brush with inlaid seashells. Looking on my nightstand, I had only a plastic comb.

I nervously got out of bed and moved over to Paige’s room.

Her room was a sea of pink. Pink walls, pink comforter with pink plushies piled in the corner. Paige would always say that she needed to get rid of them, but I noticed she never seemed to let her stuffed animals go. She had a white vanity with all of her beauty products piled onto it. I had borrowed them enough times to recognize their uses. Foundation, concealer, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, blush… these were the things that let me briefly make Zoey real in this world.

 I noticed she had her wooden hairbrush on the table and, nervously, I picked it up. I sat down in front of the mirror and started brushing through my hair. It was calming... it was a chance to have one more moment to pretend.

But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t let Zoey go so easily. Paige and Mom and Dad wouldn’t be back for some time. I had to have this moment. I had to have time to capture it. To make this more than a memory.

I shaped my hair into place. I carefully applied Paige’s makeup. I, with some overwhelming feelings of terror, took a particularly lacy bra and matching set of panties out of her dresser. I pulled off my boy clothes and started the work of changing.

The… “downstairs” situation was, of course, always unpleasant whenever I did this. 

In some of my initial experiments, my… parts… stood out more than I would have liked in tight-fitting girl clothes. But I had learned in my research about something called a “gaffe” which could be used to tuck it all away. After repurposing some of Mom’s castoff nylons to follow an online tutorial, I had gotten fairly skilled at minimizing the appearance of… it. This was going to likely be my last chance to do this right, so I decided to go for broke. I put on Paige’s panties and after filling in the bra, I looked in the mirror. 

It was like I was in RoEM. I was standing in Paige’s room, but the Zoey of my dreams was here. I posed a little, excited.

I was cute, I admitted, staring in the mirror. But it was something more. It was... safe. It was home. I was comfortable like this.

I really hadn’t thought much about what Beth told me last time we spoke. I had meant to talk to her, but doing so would mean admitting that she was right. That I was a “transgender”. That I was everything my parents and my church despised.

I winced, feeling that shame seep sapping away my smile. I was a pervert, I told myself. I was a boy dressing up as a girl. This wasn’t right. I was sick. I was wrong. I didn’t belong in this room and in these stolen clothes. This life would never be mine.

I looked at Paige's closet with sadness. She had so many pretty dresses...

My hand, almost of its own accord, pulled a dress off the rack. It was short, black, with lace trim at the cleavage and the sleeves. It had little white accents sewn into it and as I held it up to my body, I realized that it was fairly short.

I drowned out the shame. I pulled it on, feeling the fabric slide over my skin. I saw my shaved legs visible under the hem. I had been shaving my body since RoEM’s launch day. Body hair felt unbearable now. Again, throwing caution to the wind, I pulled a pair of thigh-high socks out of Paige’s dresser and pulled them on. The feeling was incredible and it was amazing to see how it all came together.

I looked in the mirror in awe. It was still me. It was Zoey.

I looked beautiful. I looked perfect. That little piece of RoEM was here again.

I took out my phone and started snapping some pictures. I learned quickly how to make the angles work for me, and I looked incredible. I wished, desperately, I could have shown someone. I just wanted to scream it from the rooftop.

I am here! I am Zoey! Look how cute I am! I’m a real girl!

I basked in the feeling. I imagined what it would be like to have Paige’s room as my own. Her clothes. Her life. For a moment, that world felt real.

And then it fell apart.

There was a sound of the door being thrown open downstairs. And my heart raced in my chest. “Just a second” came Paige’s voice from downstairs. “I’ll just get it from my room.”

My heart hammered in my chest and my head spun. In a blind panic, I rushed to try to get back to my own room, to hide. I hadn’t expected her to be back so soon, but truthfully, I had no idea how long my dress-up had lasted anyway. It had been easy to get lost in.

As I rushed down the hallway to my room in terror, I heard Paige approaching the stairs, her voice closer now. “Just give me a second, Ruth, I’ll be right back.”

I redoubled my speed, and for a moment, I thought I would make it. I was within distance to leap into my room, close the door, and escape everything. Paige wouldn’t miss one dress. It was going to be fine. I was going to be safe.

But then, the socks on my feet, so sheer and smooth, lost their traction on the carpet.

I fell. I stumbled and lost my feet, causing me to topple onto the carpet. It stung, sure, but it also gave Paige enough time to round the corner and turn onto the staircase. At the top, there was me, crumpled into a heap. And at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes wide in surprise, was Paige.

Her mouth opened and closed a few moments before her voice finally escaped. “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Fear surged through me and forced me to scramble to my feet. I made it to my room and slammed the door behind me, just before Paige made it up the stairs, her feet thumping up the stairs in furious strides. I leaned against the door and felt, with my whole body, the sensation of her pounding on my door. She tried to push against it, and I forced her back with my weight.

“TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF, RIGHT NOW, YOU PERVY CREEP!” she roared, “I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU WERE JERKING OFF IN THEM OR SOME SHIT, I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”

“Please don’t tell Mom and Dad!” I sobbed from the other side of the door, feeling nauseous. I had to swallow down the bile as I didn’t want to get vomit on her dress either. “I’m sorry!”

She pounded on the door. She called out my real name, and the sound of it drove a hole through my very being. “OPEN THE DOOR!” she roared, “HAVE YOU BEEN DOING THIS THE WHOLE TIME?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WEARING MY SHIT, YOU FUCKING FREAK?!”

I hugged myself, as I got lost in the horrible view of the future. It was all over. Paige would tell Mom, Mom would tell Dad. I would lose RoEM. I would lose all connection to the outside world. 

I would lose Zoey. 

It rocked me to my core. I curled into a ball, leaning against the door, sobbing and trying to catch my breath. I was paralyzed with terror, as my mind was instantly filled with the voices of my father, mother, sister, pastor… all those words of hatred and disgust, filling me to the brim. I was lost in that fear, and knew there was no escape.

I don’t know how long Paige was shouting for, but she eventually fell silent. There was another voice aside from Paige’s. Whispering. I couldn’t make out the words. They went back and forth for a moment. The pounding on the door changed. It became a subdued knocking.

“Uh...” said Paige’s voice, quieter. “Hey... um...” There was the sound of murmuring, another voice I now assumed to be Ruth. Paige said something in return before speaking to me again. “Look... I’m not... okay yeah I’m still kind of pissed, but I’m not going to tell Mom and Dad. Can you open the door and we can talk?”

I swallowed hard. What if it was a trick?

But it didn’t matter. Paige held my life in her hands. Wincing, I unsteadily got to my feet and pulled open the door.

Paige was standing on the other side. She didn’t quite meet my eyes, and her face was still a flushed red, but she seemed strangely quiet.

Behind her, on the stairs, there was her friend Ruth. Ruth was a curvaceous girl who was shorter than Paige. Her dark, frizzy hair was gathered into two bunches on either side of her head and her brown eyes peered closely at me. She was wearing a pair of jeans, boots and a floral blouse. I was shocked to find that she wasn’t wearing that same look of alarm that Paige was.

She was smiling. Her face lit up in awe as she made a quiet cooing noise and covered her mouth with her hands. It felt strangely familiar, not unlike the reaction I got from that lady at the digitization, Hanna. 

What was it that they saw in me that nobody else did? Why were they so happy to see me dressed like this? Wasn’t I a pervert?

I couldn’t meet Paige’s gaze. I just tried to keep staring at the floor. There was a silence that settled between us before Ruth cleared her throat. Paige sighed.

“Okay... so...” she said uncomfortably, shuffling her feet, “uh... what’s going on?”

I swallowed hard. How could I explain this!? What words could possibly express this feeling of rightness looking like this? How could I explain how wrong my body was? 

But... there was a word for it. A word I had been quietly terrified of. I swallowed hard, and, my mouth dry as sand, I croaked out the words.

“I think I’m transgender...”

Ruth nodded, making a little “mmm” of understanding, her smile never leaving her face. 

Paige... stood there. Motionless. Not even blinking as she continued to stare.

“Uh...” her voice wavered, as she shook her head to clear it, “what?”

“T-transgender,” I mumbled, clutching my stomach. “It means-”

“I know what it means!” snapped Paige impatiently. I flinched, expecting her anger again, but she held up her hands, shaking her head. “Uh… sorry, I just… this is sort of a lot. Uh… how long have you… been feeling like this?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know... It’s... confusing. I’ve always wanted to be a girl... and then, when I started playing RoEM...”

“Rome?” said Paige, confused.

I took a deep breath and told them about the game, about the digitization and about Beth and Anika. I told them about how much better things were when I was in RoEM and I could be a girl. I could be Zoey.

“Zoey...” said Ruth, stepping closer, “is that what you want to be called?”

I nodded. “Yes... my name is Zoey...” I felt strongly about that. It was the only name that felt real to me. The other name felt like a knife in the chest. And given past experience, I knew what I was talking about on that front.

“Okay... Zoey...” breathed Paige, still uncertain. I chanced a look at her face and, while she wasn’t angry anymore, she still seemed... upset. Nervous, even.

“I’m sorry...” I whimpered, desperate to try to keep her from screaming at me again.

Ruth stepped closer. “Oh, Zoey, sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for...”

Paige snorted. “It’s not your clothes and makeup that he’s wearing,” she grumbled.

“She is wearing,” Ruth insisted. “She and her pronouns, right?” She looked to me for confirmation and I nodded.

“Ruth,” said Paige, exasperated, “why the hell are you taking hi- her side like this?! Okay maybe she is trans, but this is bad! If Mom or Dad found out we-“

“Paige,” Ruth cut in, “think about your sister for a moment. Zoey’s been alone and scared all this time. You remember what that was like, don’t you?”

Paige winced, nodding. “Y-yeah...”

“I...” I screwed up my face, “I just wanted one more time... before...” I swallowed hard, trying not to break into tears thinking about it.

“Before what, sweetheart?” asked Ruth, concerned.

“Mom’s taking me to cut my hair,” I said, sniffing. “Going to get it cut like a boy.”

Paige grunted. “Oh. Right... Shit... that sucks.”

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Ruth, looking at Paige expectantly. 

Paige seemed to think about it. She looked at me carefully. “I... think I have an idea... your stylist friend, Molly?”

“Yes?” said Ruth, unsure.

“We’ll take... Zoey, for her haircut like Mom planned, but we take her to Molly instead. She can give her a cut that might work better,” she said, looking at me carefully, “something she can be happy with that isn’t a complete hack-job.”

“What about your parents?” said Ruth, raising an eyebrow. “They’ll know you left the house and did all this. And she’ll ask questions about how you got a car in the first place.”

“I... uh... I’ll take care of it,” said Paige, waving it off. “I can handle Mom and Dad.”

My eyes widened. “You’d do that?” I whispered in awe.

Paige nodded tiredly, “Yeah… I guess so…” She turned to Ruth, “Give Molly a call?”

“Okay,” said Ruth warily and tapped her phone earpiece as she stepped down the stairs, leaving us alone. We stared at one another uncomfortably. Paige cleared her throat, still uncertain.

“Uh...” she said, still uncomfortably fidgeting, “you... you look good.”

I blinked in surprise. “Really?” A warm feeling of joy began to break through the fear.

“I mean,” she snorted, “it’s my shit you’re wearing... so of course you’d look good. I’ve got good taste.”

I laughed. It felt good to laugh again. Paige blinked at me in surprise.

“What?” I asked, unsure.

“Your voice...” she said, frowning. “Your laugh. You sound different.”

I self-consciously cleared my throat. “W-what do you mean...?” My voice came out strangled as I tried to remember what it was supposed to sound like.

“I mean... it’s okay,” said Paige, holding up her hands, “I was just surprised. Hell... your makeup looks good... I’m just surprised at how good you are at this.”

“I did some searching online,” I said, a little embarrassed, “makeup tutorials, voice training, t-tucking...”

“Tuck-?“ Paige shook her head, “never mind, don’t tell me.” She grimaced. “Look... Zoey... you need to be careful, okay?”

“I have been,” I said, a little reproachfully. How much had I agonized over doing this? I was absolutely not an amateur transgender.

Paige shook her head again. “Look... here’s something you need to know. Dad can snoop on your web browsing if he wants to.”

I felt my insides freeze at hearing that. “What?”

“He doesn’t always do it,” said Paige, her voice soft, “but if he gets suspicious, he can look up all the internet connections in the house and where they’re connecting to.”

I had trouble breathing upon hearing that.

“He can’t look at your REMbox or DMs, but he can check your browser history,” she winced, “I’ve had to answer gross questions about my history before. Like, I was looking up how to put in a tampon because I was tired of dealing with pads, and Dad loses it saying that it was pornographic and I shouldn’t be ‘sticking stuff up there anyway’.” She ran her hands through her hair distractedly, “He’s fucked in the head. You know I used to go to public school, right?”

“What?” I said, shocked. As long as I remembered, we’d been homeschooled to avoid the “corruption of the secular world.”

“It was the stupidest thing,” spat Paige, disgusted, “I told Dad that someone at kindergarten said they wanted to marry me. It was cute... and Dad thought it was sweet too. I mean, we were kids and kids say stupid things. So he asked me what the boy’s name was...” Paige laughed bitterly, 

“I told him her name was Amy. And that was enough.” She shook her head. “A joke... a stupid joke by stupid kids and he loses his mind and talks about how the public school system is some Woke Liberal Socialist brainwashing factory trying to groom his kids gay. It’s like his secret nightmare that the outside world is going to seep in and turn us queer. He was even talking about sending me to some stupid pray the gay away camp. Mom talked him out of it by reminding him that I was in kindergarten.”

Paige snorted. “We’ve been homeschooled this whole time, separated from everyone, praying and praying and I still haven’t gotten any less gay.”

I sucked in a breath of shock. I looked at Paige and she met my gaze reluctantly. “Uh... surprise?”

“I...” I peeked downstairs, looking for Ruth, “are you two... uh...”

Paige sighed. “Yeah... uh... we met through Bible study,” she said, chewing her lip, “We started as friends… but we started to realize…” she broke off, blushing. “We stopped going after a while so we could get time together. We’ve been using Bible Study as a cover to... um... hang out.”  She fidgeted again with her hands before finally exhaling. “Okay, Zoey... I’ll be honest with you” she said, leaning back against the hallway wall. “I turn eighteen this year. I’ve been doing work online. I’ve been saving up money to move out. Me and Ruth are going to get an apartment together.”

I blinked at her in shock. “What?!”

“I’ve been moonlighting,” she said, crossing her arms, “A side gig on the REMnet. I’ve been working as a… content creator. I’ve got an e-wallet with almost enough money to move out. I just need to wait until I turn 18 so I can get out of here without Mom and Dad chasing me and taking my money.”

I was blown away. Paige was supposed to be the “good girl” of the family. Even if she was a grouch towards me, she was supposed to be Mom and Dad’s golden child. It was more than I could believe that she was planning her escape. I wanted to ask her how she did it.

But, something else came out of my mouth. “Can I come with you?”

I was surprised to hear myself say it out loud. But I was even more surprised to see Paige consider the idea.

“There’s... uh...” she floundered. “I don’t know. You’re not 18 yet... if I snatch you up with me, Dad could press charges. Kidnapping.”

I sagged. “Oh...”

She put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey... I’ll do what I can for you, okay? We’re... sisters, I guess. We have to take care of each other.”

The word “sisters’ broke me. I wrapped my hands around her and started sobbing. Paige was surprised, but still returned the hug, comforting me. It was real, I told myself. This was real. This was happening.

A little embarrassed, Ruth returned and politely gave us a moment to pull ourselves together. “Molly said she can make a space for Zoey.”

Paige nodded. “Cool. Let’s go.” She looked at me. “Come on… Zoey.”

Dreamlike, I followed the two of them, stepping into Ruth’s car. The car began driving itself as Ruth punched in the destination. As the car got into gear, Ruth swiveled away from the controls to look at me in the back seat. “You’re very brave,” she said, smiling, “I know how hard it is to stand up and be yourself. It’s not easy to step out like this.”

“I just...” I winced, “I dressed up for getting scanned. I couldn’t face the idea of being stuck looking like a boy sixteen hours a night. But… after I tried dressing up… I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t... and it was... it just felt right...”

“That feeling doesn’t go away,” said Paige, staring out the window, “the moment you let yourself go... the moment you let it slip and let yourself be happy... the pain of putting on that mask again just eats away at you.”

She sighed. “The first time I kissed another girl, I hated myself. I hated myself for giving into my sinful desires. For letting my family, my church and my God down. But most of all, I hated myself for wanting to do it again. No matter how hard I tried to pray it away, it didn’t leave. So... I just gave up. Gave in. And... the more I let myself open up, the more I realized how much I had been crippling myself. I had all this strength inside me that I had only ever been using to tie myself in knots.”

She sniffed. “It’s going to suck... but this time here... this moment of freedom... it’s worth it.”

It was strange seeing Paige so... open... so vulnerable. She always put up a strong front of just not caring about the world around her. Like nothing ever phased her. Yet, when she spoke like this, openly letting that pain out, I would have told anyone who listened that she was stronger now than she had ever been. She wasn’t just a mask anymore. She was a real person.

And so was I.

As the car parked itself and we stepped out in front of a nearby strip mall, it really hit me that I was Zoey again. I was dressed as a girl and it was the most natural thing in the world. I found that the practice offered by RoEM had worked in my favor as I moved easily and felt more confident this way.

I noticed Paige kept glancing at me, clearly surprised by my attitude. I wasn’t a crying mess anymore. Why would I be? This was the way things ought to be. 

The three of us walked into what looked to be a hair salon. Rotating chairs, mirrors on the walls and at the front desk, a slim woman with long, black hair, thick-framed glasses and wearing a long black dress and striped stockings was waiting for us. She broke into a wide smile upon seeing us.

“Hello, ladies,” she said, waving to us happily. Her voice was a rich alto and maybe a little intimidating, but she seemed nice otherwise.

“Thanks for getting us in, Molly,” said Ruth gratefully.

Molly waved it aside. “Don’t worry about it. It’s usually slow around this time of the day. Happy to help, short notice or no.”

There were a few other customers in the chairs behind her with the hairdressers working with them, but it seemed fairly empty at the moment. Molly peered down at me, “And you are Zoey?” she asked, her smile widening.

I nodded, unsure what to say.

“We need to get her a cut that she can be happy with,” said Paige, “but something that is passably male enough that Mom isn’t going to drag Zoey somewhere else and get it chopped off. Sorry, I know it’s kind of a weird request.”

Molly chuckled. “Oh honey, this isn’t my first rodeo. I think we can get something Zoey can be proud of and that your parents aren’t going to lose their minds over.”

She stepped around the desk, “You want to follow me?”

I nodded, following her back to her workspace. Like the others, there was a chair and a mirror, but each area had its own little touches. Family photos, small decorative touches and the like. I saw that Molly had a pair of small desk-sized flags sitting in her work area. A rainbow-colored one I was reasonably sure was a gay flag of some sort, and a white, blue and pink one I didn’t recognize.

“So,” said Molly, pulling a cape around my neck and raising the chair to her level with a faint whirr of the chair motors. “Let’s start with what you’re looking for.”

I sighed. “Mom and Dad want me to cut my hair. They think it makes me look like a girl. I don’t want to cut it at all.”

She nodded. “I remember those days,” she sighed, “got my hair buzzed down like I was joining the army... it was awful.” She spun me around slightly to examine my hair. “You can have it a little shorter and still look great... can I show you a few options?”

I nodded. She tapped on her mirror and a holographic overlay materialized. She tapped a button and after a brief scan of my head, she was able to start showing different hairstyles and how they’d hypothetically look on me.

“I think...” she said, tapping the screen a few times, “this would actually work out.” The screen displayed me, except with a shorter haircut. It showed my hair at about ear length, with a sort of poofy volume and feathering along the edges. “It’s all about how you style it,” said Molly, adjusting the model by spinning it around so I could see all the angles. “You take care of this and style it right, nobody with eyes is going to mistake you for a boy.”

I had to admit, it looked cute. It wasn’t the long locks I was really wanting, but it would be enough to keep Mom off my back. “Okay...” I said, nodding, “let’s do it.”

Molly nodded and closed out the simulation of my hair, bringing back my usual reflection. She got to work, spinning around the chair and reclining it into a basin built into her workstation. She leaned me back and got to work shampooing my hair, the water and suds working their way into my scalp.

It was strangely relaxing. It wasn’t something I’d ever had done, obviously, because it was only the sort of thing you did for women. But that’s what I was, so that was what I got.

Obviously Molly couldn’t make much conversation while her words were getting drowned out by the sound of the sink, but once she was done, and I was pulled upright, she started talking to me.

“So” she asked, her voice quiet, “I guess I have to ask the big question: Is this your first time... presenting?”

“Presenting?” I asked, a little confused.

“Dressing up as your real self,” she said, gesturing to my body, “in public.”

I shook my head. “Um... no... this is the second... Did Ruth say...?” I trailed off, unsure how much information to give.

“She let me know what the situation was,” said Molly, “and that stays between us, okay? I know what it’s like to have to manage two lives at once.”

I looked at her carefully as she worked, “Are... are you...?”

She chuckled and pointed out the pink, blue and white flag on her desk. “Transgender. Yeah.”

I was stunned. It was earth-shattering. I wasn’t alone. This was a real-life person who was like me. She looked like a woman so effortlessly. She was confident and kind and, most importantly, real. 

I wasn’t alone.

I had to swallow a few times before I could speak again. “I have so many questions,” I said, shaking slightly.

“Ask away,” she said, still trimming.

“Uh... how did you...” I had to struggle to remember the exact word Beth had given me, “transition?”

She smiled. “I told my parents at age 12. I told them I wanted to be a girl and they took me shopping for new clothes. They started calling me Molly. They got me puberty blockers at age 14 so I wouldn’t have to go through testosterone-fueled puberty. They got my name legally changed. At age sixteen, I started hormones and have been on them ever since.” She shrugged a little guiltily. “I know you’re in a more difficult situation, and not everyone is as open-minded as my parents, so I don’t know how much that helps.”

My stomach dropped. It seemed impossible. Like this woman was born on a completely different planet. The idea that parents could support something like this felt impossible. That was what parents existed for as far as I knew... to enforce the will of God and make you feel guilty.

“...how are they? The... the hormones?” I asked weakly.

“They take a little getting used to,” she said pensively, “but it’s just so magical to have your body finally becoming what you’ve always known it to be. It can be slow… but I’ve never regretted it.”

“Uh... do they fix your... uh...” I started blushing, unable to finish the question. I pointed downward, unable to look her in the eye.

“No, sweetie,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder, “but I got that all surgically handled when I turned 18. It’s not for everyone, but it was important to me.”

I just stared into space for a moment. This woman, Molly, had everything I had been denied. It wasn’t just a function of the universe to make transgender people miserable, it was the choice of people like my mother and father and church. They could have always been better, but chose not to be.

I felt betrayed. I felt lost. I felt trapped. These people were so invested in their Bible that my joy and my happiness didn’t even factor in. I was dying inside and all they could say in response was hallelujah.

I looked over my shoulder to see Paige and Ruth sitting close together in the waiting area. She had been robbed too, I guess. Forced to love in secret and forced to literally sell off her dreams just to be able to escape these people. Where the REMnet had been my escape, for Paige, it had been her job.

Sitting in this chair, it finally dawned on me that me and my parents were fundamentally at war. They didn’t see me like a real person... they were my personal griefers. Or, Grief-Eaters, as Marianne would put it. They were little different from Jacob... just colder with their hatred. As far as my parents were concerned, I was the NPC. A mob to be ground down.

“Are you okay?” asked Molly, stopping for a moment.

“I...” my voice came as if from a distance, “I didn’t know life could be good for people like us. I thought the pain was just how the world works. But... people are choosing to make things difficult. People are choosing to take away our happiness.” I shook my head. “I... it’s a lot to take in.”

Molly nodded sadly. “It’s difficult. But, for what it’s worth... there are people who are fighting for us, too. Don’t forget that we’re part of the larger LGBT+ rainbow. We are never alone in this fight and just by living as ourselves, we’re making the world slightly better.” She tapped my head with her finger, “you are here despite everything being stacked against you. You’re being your authentic self. That’s the path forward for you, Zoey. No matter how things go... as long as you hold onto who you are, you’ll find your way.”

Molly made a few more adjustments and, with a flourish, spun my chair around to see the results. I was amazed at what I saw.

It was cute. It was a little shorter than I would have preferred, but it still hugged that line between male and female enough that Mom wouldn’t take it away. At least, I hoped so.

“You want to use some mousse with it,” said Molly, cleaning up the hair off my shoulders as she removed the cape, “if you style it right, you can really make it pop. Does this work for you?”

I nodded. “It’s perfect. Thank you...” 

“You’re not the first trans girl I’ve had to do this for,” she sighed, stepping away from the chair to let me get out, “the very least I can do is make the closet you’re stuck in a little more comfortable until you can get out from under your parents.”

I smiled, wrapping my arms around her. “Thank you...”

She was a little surprised at the suddenness, but she reciprocated, patting my head. “Thank you.”

I pulled back. “It’s... it’s really nice to see you like this. Grown-up and in the world like this. I...” I wiped away a tear from the corner of my eye. “It makes the future a little less scary.”

She cracked a grin and squeezed me one more time before letting me go.

Paige and Ruth stood up to meet with Molly. “Uh... here...” said Paige, bringing up a holographic payment receipt. “Thanks...”

Molly looked at the receipt for a moment before her eyes snapped open in shock. “Oh my stars... oh no no no no no...” She shook her head. “I can’t accept that much...”

“I insist,” said Paige, unmoved, “this meant the world to Zoey and you did take us at the last minute. Come on...”

Molly sighed, and pressed the accept button. “Okay, but just this once,” she said, warily. She looked at me. “Okay, Zoey... Ruth has my contact tags so if you need anything, and I mean anything, you just let me know, okay? We help each other.”

I nodded. “I will. Thank you.” The words were a little tight, but I got them out. It was so much to take in. I had been alone so long that having allies felt more like a threat than a blessing.

It took me another minute or two of hugging Paige in the parking lot to reassure myself. Afterwards, we slipped back into Ruth’s car and set out for home.

I all but collapsed into the seat. It was too much to take in. I had never expected Paige to do something like this for me. When she started screaming at me earlier, I thought the world was coming to an end. I thought all hope was lost.

But, as Molly said... we look out for one another. Like family. And Paige was now more my sister than ever. We were going to face this together.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the chirp of my phone. I tapped the earpiece to bring up the display and found that Gavin was messaging me.

[Hey, dude! What’s up?]

My guts twisted as I considered what to say. I couldn’t tell him about what had happened today. Dejected, I replied. [Not much... Just got my haircut.]

[Cool! Picture?]

The twisting got worse. I was proud of how I looked but I knew I couldn’t share that pride with Gavin. [Uh... it looks terrible. I’d rather not.]

[Oof. Sorry, bro. Okay so, remember that job I was running in RoEM?]

Gavin had been spending his time, by his account, literally being a pirate raiding ships off the southern coasts. Just recently he said that they were tracking a royal frigate with a load of gold. I had to admit I wasn’t super thrilled with the idea, but Gavin said they hadn’t actually killed anyone or anything. The whole affair was basically that they’d cripple their ships, board them, take the loot and do what they could to get their customers mobile again.

According to Gavin’s captain, “Death was bad for business”

[Yeah?] I typed back.

[We got it! It was close as hell, but we managed to knock out their sails and board them! The score was huge! I’m going to be heading back to the mainland to buy some decent gear with my share.]

[Cool! What were you looking to buy?]

[I absolutely NEED a new sword because mine finally snapped in the last fight. Probably going to get some sturdy armor, too, because I got cut up kinda badly.]

[Oh no! Are you okay?]

[Oh yeah it’s fine. The ship’s doc patched me up pretty easy, but it could have been worse. Shit’s crazy. How have you been doing in Whiteoak?]

[I’ve been training with Marianne on how to fight.]

[Nice! You got some real steel to swing around?]

[I got a wooden hammer and shield. Some cloth padded armor. Just practice stuff. Marianne says I’m not ready for metal stuff yet. I need to grind up my strength a LOT. Hammers are heavy and metal hammers are like a zillion times worse.]

[Jeeze... when we meet up, you’re going to be this giant beefcake or something. Like Thor or whatever.]

I gritted my teeth. Not only was Gavin still treating me like a guy, he had been talking about meeting up in-game almost constantly. As far as I knew, Gavin was on the other side of the world of RoEM, so I wasn’t in any danger of blowing my cover. But the more we talked, the worse these feelings got and the less excuses I could offer. 

I was lying to my best friend. It was awful, but being Zoey made me a million times more happy than I’d ever been. Why couldn’t I share this joy with him?

Because, I reminded myself, if I lose Gavin, I lose my closest friend. I couldn’t risk that.

[So… you got a giant hammer… and you can hammer out that steel right? Maybe you could make me some armor?]

[Yeah, no… I asked Marianne once and she said a full suit of plate armor would take months to make and would be, like, hundreds of gold pieces to get the materials…]

[I get it. Everything is way too expensive. Transportation is the worst. I got charged like fifty freaking gold pieces to travel with this caravan. I swear I’m getting fleeced.]

[Caravan?]

[Don’t worry about it. Just a detour before I go on the next pirate raid. Syd is tagging along.]

Syd, according to Gavin, was a mentor NPC the same way Marianne was for me. Syd was a lizardman who served as a cartographer and navigator for the crew. Apparently he was sort of gloomy, but he took Gavin under his wing and had been showing him the ropes.

[Me and Marianne have been talking about traveling at some point. We’d need to save up and ask Alexander for time off.]

[Look at you... Mister Fancy Businessman.]

I winced. He didn’t know how much it hurt, but it made talking to him so difficult. I am a girl!

[Uh... I think I joined the Guardians.]

There was a pause on his end before he typed in his reply. [Shit, for real? That’s kinda nuts, dude. The Griefers factions are insane and I hear the Guardians are really outnumbered.]

[I don’t care. I can’t stand to see them hurt people. This isn’t like RoR. They’re like people, Gavin. They’re not mobs.]

[Yeah... It’s kind of intense. We actually had to kick a human off our crew because he was just cutting up people. Didn’t care that they had surrendered, just fucking sliced them open. Fucking griefers.]

[I nearly got killed.]

[What?!]

I had to take a deep breath in order to recount what happened with Steven. I had to use short, choppy sentences to recount it without losing it. And when I finished speaking, all Gavin could reply with was, [That’s fucked up.]

[He was a kid… being egged on by some griefer group…]

[Which one?]

[Uh… the Steel Crusaders?]

[Ugh… yeah, they’re a bunch of trolls getting off on the medieval crusade thing… purging heretics and shit. They’re a bunch of racist, basement-dwelling, edgelords.]

[It’s so messed up how they put that kid through all that…] 

[I mean… these people are assholes. They don’t give a shit about who they hurt. It’s all a game to them.]

[I know. But I can’t just sit by and let it happen. Maybe I can’t really fight yet, but I have to do SOMETHING.]

[I get it. Shit, you really are stepping up to the paladin thing aren’t you?]

[I guess? It’s not for a character class, though. I’m doing it because it’s right. Someone has to do something. So I guess it has to be me.]

“Zoey?” called back Ruth. I snapped back to the world around me and found we were back home.

[Gotta go] I typed back

[Sure. Talk to you soon.]

We got out of the car and went back inside. It still felt strange being dressed like this in front of Paige. Even as we stepped into the house and collapsed onto the couch, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Paige would suddenly stand up and start screaming at me again.

“Okay,” said Paige, sliding in next to Ruth. “Zoey... ground rules. We don’t talk about any of this around Mom or Dad. As far as they know, we’re still the same kids they’ve always known. If we suddenly start hanging out and getting all sisterly, they’re going to know something is up.”

I winced. “Oh...” It hurt to hear it from her. That after today she would go back to being my grumpy, aloof older sister. I looked up at her. “Why did you treat me like crap all this time? What did I do?”

Her eyes widened in shock, and I saw her defensively cross her arms over her chest, scowling. “Okay, Look-!” she began angrily.

Ruth put a hand on her arm, giving her a cautious glare. Paige sighed, relaxing slightly.

“I hate it here,” she grumbled, after chewing her lip for a moment. “I hate Dad being a control freak and Mom being a fucking enabler. But if I slip up, I might lose my one chance to escape. I guess…” She shrugged, staring at me guiltily. “I'm trapped here. You were sort of my punching bag when things got rough. I…” she wiped at her eyes, “I’m sorry, Zoey. I shouldn’t have hurt you like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s… okay,” I breathed, “And you don’t deserve it either.”

She nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. “Look... if you ever want to talk for real, we can do it over messaging,” she said, smiling, “you got my phone number, obviously.”

“Okay...” I nodded, slowly. So much of my “real” life was taking place on my phone these days.

“So, rule number two. You don’t borrow my stuff without asking,” she said, standing up a little straighter. “We can talk about getting you some clothes of your own later, but I don’t want you just taking stuff out of my room again.” She gestured towards me. “I would offer to give you some tips but honestly, you’re kind of rocking this, Zoey.”

I smiled back. “I learned from the best.”

“Okay...” she said, smirking, “So... I hate to say this, but I have to: Mom is going to be coming back here in like half an hour or so. You need to get changed back to looking like a boy.”

I winced. Every time I had been forced to do this, I broke down. And now was no exception as I resumed crying tears of silent pain. I couldn’t reply beyond staring at the floor, feeling hollow as tears flowed freely out of my eyes.

“Hey, Zoey... you know that you’re still a girl... no matter what you wear,” said Ruth gently, reaching out to wrap me in a hug, “You are still Zoey on the inside, no matter what is on the outside.”

“We’ll try to make time to give you a space for some more girling it up,” said Paige, “it’s going to be tricky, but there’s a queer support group we sometimes visit, I think we can bring you, as long as we give Mom and Dad a good excuse.” Paige stood up and walked over to me, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re not alone anymore, sis. Don’t you forget it.”

That did it. The tears burst out of me as I collapsed into her arms and just waited for them to stop. Sisters. We were sisters now. Paige held me tight, stroking my hair and murmuring that it was going to be okay. The pain never went away entirely, but it became manageable after a minute or two.

I stood up, awkwardly looking at Paige and her girlfriend. “Sorry,” I said, sniffling.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Paige, “okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” She turned to Ruth, pained. “Sorry, we didn’t really get to spend as much time together.”

She shook her head. “No, this was fine. I had fun and we really helped your sister out.”

“Right... message you later?” 

Ruth nodded. Paige glanced at me a little hesitantly and, after a pause, turned back to Ruth and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Okay, see you...” she said, blushing.

Ruth giggled and returned a kiss, surprising Paige. It was a little more intense. I looked away out of politeness until they had separated. “Love you,” she whispered.

“Love you, too,” said Paige, smiling dreamily.

Ruth looked over to me. “It was really nice to meet you, Zoey. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

 I nodded, “T-thank you.”

The two of them exchanged a look and Ruth stepped out the door. Paige looked saddened by her absence for a moment, but then became her stern businesslike self again. She took me upstairs and we set to removing my makeup. It was still awful but Paige was actually helpful in offering tips. She gave me some privacy as I undressed from her borrowed clothes. Through the door, she gave me suggestions for the future. She mentioned that I could get inserts for the bra, for instance, to fill it in a little better than socks.

There was only a single moment of awkwardness when I handed Paige her clothes back. After I finished changing into my slacks and button down shirt, she took inventory of my selections and, with a pained look on her face, held up the panties. My cheeks burned as I couldn’t quite meet her face. She seemed to be thinking for a moment of what to say, but clearly decided that nothing was the best response. She took them all and tossed them into the dirty clothes basket in her room.

I took a quick moment to muss up the haircut slightly to make it look less girly. I sighed. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing.

Paige, likewise, had to get changed into something more home-school appropriate and once she was done, we just sat down together at the kitchen table pretending to work. We, of course, couldn’t do anything. Too much had happened and we were at our respective limits.

The awkward moment didn’t last as the sound of the garage door opening precluded Mom’s arrival. We both made renewed shows of doing work and readied ourselves as she opened the door and stepped into the house.

“Hey kids,” chirped mom, unshouldering her purse and hanging her keys on the wall, “Aunt Bev is doing fine, thank God. Still chatty. You finish your work?”

Me and Paige exchanged a glance for a moment. “Uh... some of it. We’ll work on it more after dinner.”

Mom sighed. “Can I leave you kids alone for a few hours without you two slacking off?!” she shook her head. She looked at me. “And you have to get ready... for...” She trailed off.

She just blinked in confusion at my hair.

“I saved you the trouble,” said Paige, nonchalant. “How’s it look?”

Mom snapped to her in shock. “You did this?!” she said, disbelieving.

“Yeah,” said Paige, stone faced, “I’ve been doing some sleep-learning courses. Learning over REMnet. I was thinking of picking up cosmetology.”

Mom frowned. She looked back at me. “Well... uh... you... you did good work...” she hedged.

Paige sighed, turning away from her. “You hate it. Great... after all that time and practice...”

“No no no, Paige,” Mom held up her hands in a placating gesture, “It’s good... just a little...” Mom kept staring at my hair, clearly trying to come up with a word. “Trendy? Modern? We were really planning to do something more traditional.”

Paige stood up from the table with a start. “Great...” she snapped, scowling. “Fantastic. Thanks, Mom. Would you have preferred I shaved him bald?”

I cringed at the thought.

Mom shook her head and stepped over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Oh sweetheart, it’s okay... it’s fine...” she looked at me, “You’re okay with it?”

I wasn’t anywhere near the actress that Paige was, but I tried not to be upstaged. I gave a sort of half-smile and shrugged. “Uh, yeah? I just wanted to help Paige out.”

“You’re a good brother,” said Mom, nodding in approval. She squeezed Paige’s shoulder. “So, it’s okay. I’m proud of you for trying something new. This is good, Paige. And we want to support you through it, okay?”

Paige put on a face of relief that I suspected wasn’t faked. “Thanks,” she breathed.

“Alright...” said Mom, “let me get dinner ready.”

Me and Paige exchanged glances as Mom turned her back. I mimed a clapping of hands to which she gave a quick bow of acceptance. I could now fully believe that she had managed to date Ruth entirely behind Mom and Dad and (up until now) my back. It was scary how good of a liar she was.

There was, of course, one last hurdle: Dad.

Mom was just in the process of pulling the meatloaf out of the oven when Dad stepped through the door. Mom and Dad exchanged the basic gossip about work and friends while me and Paige just browsed the net in the corner. As I did so, I was remembering Paige’s warning about Dad being able to spy on me. It wasn’t like I was looking at anything he’d object to, mostly RoEM stuff, but it still made me spend that extra second of consideration every time I typed something in or clicked a link.

Dad turned to us and I clenched inside as his eyes snapped to me. “What the fuck is this?!” he said, stabbing a finger at me accusingly. I jerked as if he’d kicked me in the stomach. Dad rounded on Mom indignantly. “What the hell, Judy?! You said you’d get him a haircut!”

Mom stepped close, trying to defuse him. “Carl,” she said, her voice low, “he-“

“He looks like a goddamn faggot!” roared Dad, taking a stride towards me, “What the fuck kind of barber did you take him to?!”

At this, Paige did an impressive trick to turn Dad’s rage against him.

She started crying. Loudly and melodramatically. She buried her head in her hands and started wailing. I stared at her, dumbfounded. Paige was usually not the hysterical crying type, but she sure as hell made it work for her.

Dad stopped short, confused. Mom took him by the shoulder and hissed something insistent in his ear. Dad immediately turned bright red. He looked at me again, still dissatisfied, but let the matter drop as he approached Paige.

“Sweetheart-“ he began sweetly, smiling.

“YOU HATE IT!” wailed Paige into her hands, “I TRIED SO HARD!”

“Oh... honey...” said Dad, grinning painfully, “it... it looks... it looks fine. You... you just surprised me, that's all.” He looked at me, thumbs up, “Looking good, son. Sharp.”

Paige looked up at him through her hands, “You- you mean it?” she said, sniffing.

Dad’s face twisted in frustration for a moment as he looked back at Mom. Mom gave him a stern look in return. Dad nodded wearily. “Yep...” he said, smiling at Paige, “really good work, pumpkin... just...” He looked at me. “Maybe don’t use your brother as a lab rat without telling us?”

“I wanted it... to be a surprise...” Paige said, sniffing, “to show you what I can do.”

“Right...” said Dad, holding up his hands, as if to ward her off, “how about this? We can talk to Doris at church next Sunday when we see her and maybe get you some one-on-one training.”

Doris was our usual hairstylist. An older woman from our church who worked out of her garage salon. She had a number of cats that would leave us with more hair than we left behind as they heedlessly shed all over us. Doris herself would either talk about said cats, her dead husband or she would talk about some of her troubling political views.

Paige’s expression flickered in annoyance before returning to gratitude. “Awww... thanks Daddy.” She stood up and pecked him on the cheek gratefully. Dad accepted it, still frowning at me, but he seemed to let the matter drop. 

Now that I was no longer the center of attention, I made a point of trying to sneak away, not wanting to draw further attention onto myself. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt Dad’s hand come down on my shoulder.

“Sorry about that, son,” Dad murmured, as he looked over his shoulder back to Paige. “Thanks for sticking it out for your sister. I know that hair looks pretty rough.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s fine...” I whispered quietly.

“Look... you’re getting older and you’re going to be working soon, kiddo,” said Dad, squeezing my shoulder and circling around to essentially trap me against the kitchen wall. “and I want to make sure you’re prepared. Things are kind of scary out there right now. You step outside and have hair like that... you’re marking yourself as a target.”

I blinked in confusion. “A target?”

“For them... you know?” said Dad, his expression deathly fearful, “the homosexuals. They see a boy like you with hair like that and they see easy prey.”

“I’m not gay,” I said, staring at the ground. “I like girls.” Which was true as far as I could tell. To the point that I wanted to be one, but I had no desire to share that with Dad.

“Oh, son...” he sighed, squeezing my shoulder again, “if it was only that easy. But everyone has the taint of sin nestled inside them. It’s the nature of living in the fallen world. And that little seed can blossom into temptation and sin and damnation. You have to be vigilant, son. Fight against that darkness.”

Dad’s face grew distant for a moment, before he snapped back to me. “Anyway... we’ll get that hair cleaned up eventually. Just be careful, okay?”

He squeezed me in a hug and I had to force myself to return it. I didn’t think dad saw anything overtly gay or transgender in me, but I couldn’t help but internally panic for a minute before dinner began.

After a strangely tranquil dinner, me and Paige were stuck at the table doing make up work for what we didn’t get done during the day. I looked at Paige, still awed at how she’d played them. “That was crazy,” I murmured to her, checking to see that Mom and Dad were still engrossed in the news feeds in the next room.

“I’ve had practice playing Mom and Dad,” she said back. “You owe me. Now I’m going to have to fake a passion for hairstyling with fucking Doris.” She made a gagging sound. “I get to hear her bitch for hours about how young people are ruining everything again.”

“Sorry,” I said, looking down at the table. “I... I just...”

“It’s fine... Zoey...” she sighed, as she shot a glance to the next room, as if checking to see if we were being overheard. 

The sound of my name filled me with joy. It made things just a little easier knowing that someone else in this house was watching out for me. 

“What was Dad talking to you about?” asked Paige, not looking up from her work.

“Uh... he wanted me to watch out for gay people who might snatch me up and turn me with my hair like this,” I said, completely bewildered.

Page dropped her pencil and just looked up at me in awe. “Fucking hell...” She shook her head. “Jesus, he’s got it bad...”

“What?” I asked.

“YOU KIDS BETTER BE WORKING IN THERE!” Mom called back, “YOU HAVE THREE CHAPTERS TO MAKE UP!”

The two of us shared a long-suffering look and got back to work.

For what it was worth, the world felt better. Mom and Dad would never be the people I wanted them to be. They would never be like Molly’s parents, accepting and providing. But I still had a family that cared. For that, I was grateful.