Too Pretty to Be a Boy -12- by Lajien

I rode my bike home; my head wasn’t clear. I wanted to help Nathan, I did, but his mom was like a cultist or something, talking about subjugating men as if it were nothing. I’m going to have to work hard. I determined to save Nathan, even if I made an enemy of Rebecca and whoever’s with her.

Arriving home, I used my phone to open the door. Walking into the living room, I saw Mom sitting on the couch. She was working on her laptop, probably tracking a new shipment of clothes or something. “Carla, come here,” she said, her voice strong but kind. She patted the couch, signaling for me to sit beside her.

“So, what happened at the Queen’s house?” Mom asked, her arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. “I trust your judgment, but I don’t trust Rebecca,” she added. Well, she’s right. Rebecca can’t be trusted.

I let out a sigh and started explaining everything: the way Nathan’s dad was treated, Nathan wearing the dress and heels, how he had to refuse the clothes I gave him, afraid he’d get in trouble, the violin part, and everything else. I looked at her when I was done, and she wasn’t surprised. “You’re not surprised?” I asked.

“Not really. You have my support anyway. But if I feel for a second that Rebecca might harm you, I’m killing her. I’m sure you don’t want your mom to end up in jail, right?” Mom joked with a smirk, making me smile.

“The Queen’s affair aside, let’s focus on the Romanos’ affairs,” Mom explained while I looked up at her in confusion.

As far as I know, my mom’s family never had issues. Sure, her brother and sister live far away in Georgia, and we barely see them, but they call, and they have a good relationship. Nonna is a great figure in the new Italian community here in California. The Mediterranean Sea earthquake 20 years ago forced many to find new homes. Among them were many Italians, who, unbelievably, weren’t that welcomed.

They fared better in other states, like New York, but in California, there were simply more Arabs. They hired their own first, then those closer to them, like Turks, which was rare and done when Imams introduced them to business owners. Only then would they look for others.

The Italians who didn’t leave to other states were mostly hired by Grandpa. He was a civil engineer who had a construction company that’s still standing to this day. He aggressively expanded his projects with the number of workers he had. It was a risky move, but it worked. After Grandpa died, Nonna sold the company for a price she couldn’t refuse and now lives comfortably but still runs the new Italian community here. They used to call Grandpa Padre and still call Grandma Madre.

“Today, your aunt Bella and the twins, Jimmy and Janet, are coming to dinner too,” Mom explained. I looked at her in a bit of surprise. Like I said, Aunt Bella lives in a different state. “She got a job here, as a hospital director.”

“Can you stop reading my mind?” I pouted, making her laugh. I swear, she knows everything, always knew what I was thinking before saying it. Then it hit me: Aunt Bella knows me as Carl, her nephew, not Carla, her niece. I don’t know her well enough to know if she’ll be cool with it or not.

“Mom, does she know? That I’m a girl now?” I asked worriedly. I didn’t want a dinner with Nonna to turn into a disaster.

“She knows, and she’s the last person you have to worry about,” Mom explained, patting my head. “Leaving aside that she’s an angel who wants to help everyone like you, Jimmy, your cousin, is also a GCS girl. She hasn’t picked a name for herself yet, but she’s already living as a girl. You and your cousin probably understand each other better than anyone.”

“Until she lives with two apes who tried to kill her daily, I don’t think she’ll understand,” I joked, making Mom chuckle a bit. But I could hear the sadness in her voice.

Last winter, when my brothers Dicky and Peter threw me outside in the freezing cold and threw water at me, getting me rushed to the hospital, she stopped talking to them. She didn’t want to choose between her biological child and the children she raised. But she was so devastated that she couldn’t talk to them.

“Anyway, can you change into something a bit more formal? Don’t get me wrong, you look amazing, and I really like your outfit, but you know your Nonna,” Mom explained. She was always sensitive to my self-esteem, and she’s a big reason for my confidence. I still felt bad about how I was mean to her before.

“Okay, but I’m not sure what to wear. Should I wear a dress or a skirt? If I wear a skirt, what top should I wear?” Suddenly, Mom put her finger on my lips with a soft smile on her face. She leaned in and kissed my forehead.

“Take a breath. Like I always said, I trust your judgment. Besides, you also have my sense of fashion, and you make the clothes look good, not the other way around,” Mom explained with a chuckle. She was calm while I was about to have a full panic attack. “I don’t get it, how come I’ve never seen it before? You’ve always been a girl. I still remember your first school play; you were the princess.”

“MOM,” I replied, blushing hard. I swear, parents remember the most embarrassing stuff about their kids. “How do you remember this? I was like five or six, right?”

Mom smiled, pulling me closer, planting a kiss on the temple. “What sort of mom would I be if I didn’t remember everything about my daughter?” she explained with a warm smile that never left her face, not even once. “I told you this the day before, but I’m glad you decided to come live with me, and to have Johnny nearby—that makes me even happier.”

I looked through my closet with annoyance; there were so many options. Still, I decided on a baby blue strappy off-shoulder sundress. I picked closed-toe, low-heeled sandals to go with it. I opened my drawer and, to my surprise, found a couple of pairs of opaque pantyhose still in their package. I picked a pair of white ones before starting to get dressed.

I stood in my bedroom, the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, lighting up the baby blue strappy off-shoulder sundress on my bed. The cotton fabric looked soft, like it’d move with my steps. I touched it, feeling its cool surface, then opened my drawer to find two unopened packages of white opaque pantyhose.

I picked one, the plastic crinkling as I opened it, and ran the smooth fabric through my fingers, its lightweight feeling nice. Sitting on the bed, I pulled the pantyhose up my legs, the material fitting snugly, giving my legs a polished look that made me feel a bit older. I slipped into the sundress, the straps resting lightly on my shoulders, the hem hitting just above my knees. Then I put on my closed-toe low-heeled sandals, the baby blue floral embroidery catching the light as I tied the straps, the canvas feeling firm but comfortable.

In the mirror, my dirty blonde hair hung in loose waves, Nonna’s necklace shining at my collarbone. The pantyhose added a slight sheen to my legs, and the sundress fit my frame, making me feel like Carla, not Carl.

I felt okay about Nonna’s dinner now, less worried about Aunt Bella and Jimmy. I glanced at the amber bottle of GCS booster tablets on my nightstand—I’d taken my evening dose, the house AI chiming softly to confirm. I turned once, the dress shifting slightly, and headed downstairs, the hardwood steps creaking under my sandals, the pantyhose making a faint sound with each step.

In the living room, Mom was on the couch, her laptop open, probably checking a boutique shipment. She looked up as I walked in, her dark eyes warm. “Carla, come here,” she said, her voice steady and kind, patting the couch. I sat next to her, the leather cool against my pantyhose, and she put her arm around me.

“You picked a good outfit,” she said, looking me over. “That sundress works for Nonna’s dinner, and the pantyhose make you look more grown-up, like you’re ready for anything.” Her smile was warm, and I felt good hearing her words.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, smoothing the dress over my knees, noticing the pantyhose’s sheen. “I wasn’t sure if it was too much, but it feels okay.”

“It’s just right,” Mom said, patting my shoulder, her floral perfume familiar and calming. “You’ve got my taste in clothes, and you wear them well.”

Before I could say more, the front door opened, and Johnny walked in, his tall frame filling the doorway. His black hair was a bit messy, grey eyes friendly. In one hand, he held a sleek black violin case, its surface smooth and shiny; in the other, his black motorcycle helmet, scuffed from use. He came over, sneakers scuffing the hardwood, and handed me the case, the helmet swinging slightly at his side. “Hey, kid,” he said, his voice casual but kind. “I’ve had this tucked away for a while, waiting for the right time. Now’s good.”

I took the case, its weight solid in my hands. “Johnny, what’s this?” I asked, my fingers running over the edges, the metal clasps cool as I set it on the coffee table.

“Take a look,” he said, leaning against the couch, arms crossed, helmet now tucked under one arm, a small smile on his face. “Kept it hidden from some trouble.”

I opened the case, the hinges making a quiet sound, and lifted the lid. Inside, on soft velvet, was a handmade violin, its spruce body a warm amber color, the grain smooth and neat. The strings looked new, the ebony fingerboard clean, and a bow sat next to it, its horsehair ready. I paused, surprised—it was clearly expensive, probably made by a skilled luthier, worth a lot. “Johnny, this is… really nice,” I said, my voice quiet, not touching it yet. “How did you get this?”

He laughed a little, shifting the helmet to his other hand. “Working with Dad at La Belleza pays well, and you know Dad’s always generous with money. I found this website that makes handmade violins, and figured it’d be perfect since you’ve been playing since you were five. It took a while to get it made, but I kept it in my place for a surprise.

“Good thing—Chrystal broke into my apartment last night, cut up all my custom-made clothes, smashed some expensive watches Dad gave me, left a mess. But she didn’t find this. Locked it in a safe she couldn’t get to.” His tone got sharp when he mentioned Chrystal, but his eyes stayed kind, watching me.

I frowned, setting the case down carefully, the violin safe in its velvet. “What are you gonna do about your clothes?” I asked, looking up at him. “Weren’t they all custom-made?”

Johnny shrugged, the helmet glinting under the light. “I’ve got some jeans and T-shirts left. I’ll order new ones. Dad’s got contacts, and the job’s got me covered. Not a big deal.” He grinned, brushing it off, but I could tell he was annoyed.

Mom’s face tightened, her laptop snapping shut as she leaned forward, her voice low but firm. “Johnny, we’re not letting this slide,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Chrystal can’t just vandalize your property—your clothes, those watches your dad gave me—and get away with it. We’re suing her for damages. I know you don’t want to, but you can’t let people walk over you. You need to make an example out of her.” Her words were sharp, her hands clenched, but her arm stayed around me, steady.

Johnny sighed, rubbing his neck, the helmet dangling from his hand. “Mom, I get it, but it’s just stuff. I don’t want the hassle.”

“It’s not just stuff,” Mom shot back, her voice rising slightly. “It’s your home, your things. She crossed a line, and we’re holding her accountable.”

I nodded, looking between them, the violin’s amber glow catching my eye. “Mom’s right, Johnny,” I said, my voice calm but sure. “Chrystal can’t keep doing this. Suing her makes sense. She needs to know she can’t mess with you.” I meant it—Chrystal’s vandalism felt like a threat, like what Rebecca was doing to Nathan, and I didn’t want Johnny to let it go.

Johnny glanced at me, then Mom, his grin fading into a small nod. “Alright, alright. If you both say so, I’ll talk to Dad about it.” He set the helmet on the couch, his tone grudging but agreeing.

Mom relaxed slightly, her arm squeezing my shoulder. “Good. We’ll handle it,” she said, her voice softening but firm. She looked at me, smiling again. “Carla, that violin’s great for you. Johnny, you’re making this a good day, despite everything.”

I stood and hugged Johnny, my arms around his chest, the sundress brushing his jacket. “Thanks, Johnny,” I said, my voice steady but warm. “This is amazing. I don’t know how to thank you.”

He hugged me back, his arms gentle, chuckling softly, the helmet now on the couch. “No need to say much, kid. Just play it well, okay? Show your new teacher what you’ve got.” He messed up my hair a bit, stepping back as I smiled, the pantyhose’s sheen catching the light.

I looked back at the violin, my fingers brushing its smooth wood, cool to the touch. I glanced at Johnny, then Mom, their support making me feel ready. “By the way, Mom, did you know that Nathan also plays the violin?” I didn’t know how good he was at the violin, but I could see that the brat I met yesterday was not the real Nathan.

“Well, from what I know, Nathan is surprisingly a boy with many talents. I heard his violin play at a youth talent gathering once. He’s good, but not as good as you,” Mom explained. I could see in her eyes that she understands me the most. Everyone says I’m a mini her, and the only difference was that I was a boy, but that’s not the case anymore. “Anyway, I think we should start the process of filing charges against Chrystal. You have the evidence, right?” Mom asked.

Johnny nodded, taking out his phone. It showed footage from security cameras: Chrystal used knives, scissors, and anything sharp she could find in the house to ruin Johnny’s things. She even smashed one of his gaming consoles and ruined his favorite ball by stabbing it with a knife. That ball was signed by an NPA player, and I know how much it’s worth since that player retired three years ago.

Johnny got it when he was seven, when Dad took him to a game. He managed to sneak into the locker room. Instead of kicking him out, the players were nice to him, and one of them even signed a ball for Johnny. Chrystal then went through all his clothes, going at them with scissors before taking her things and leaving.

“How much was this ball worth again?” I asked, looking at Johnny, who looked devastated. He just gave me a sad look and shrugged, not saying another word.

“I have no doubt that Harry’s lawyers can handle this, but let me introduce you to my lawyer. She won’t have to fly over and has enough connections to move things fast.”

I kinda felt bad for Chrystal; Mom was determined to make her pay, and Mom is not someone you want to make an enemy of. She’s cunning, resourceful, and whatever she says always happens.

We followed Mom out of the house and passed a couple of houses down the road before we stopped in front of one of the houses. Mom stepped through the front yard and didn’t do anything, just stood there with me and Johnny standing behind her.

A couple of seconds later, the door opened, and there stood a cute girl with blonde hair and deep, mesmerizing blue eyes. She looked to be 10 or 11. Her blonde, shoulder-length hair looked cute, which reminded me I need a new hairstyle.

“Ms. Romano, Mom is waiting for you. Please come in,” the girl spoke with extreme politeness that was kinda surprising. She opened the door further for us to come in.

“Thank you, Ryan,” Mom said as we entered. “I remember asking you to call me Lilian. I’ve been your mother’s client for years and have known you since you were a little boy,” she explained. Ryan stayed quiet.

Hold on… THAT’S A BOY? He’s too cute to be a boy, and he looks like a developing girl. He lacks no beauty a girl his age would have. Unless he’s maybe like me? A girl who doesn’t know her identity yet.

“Ryan, that’s my daughter, Carla, and that’s my oldest son, Johnny,” Mom introduced us proudly. She considers my brothers as her own children. Although she and Dad never agreed on formal visitation rights for my brothers, they still visit during holidays. Except Johnny, who felt hurt and felt like using two moms.

He was very careful about visiting Mom; besides, he was already 15 and was going through the most troubling phase of his life. He would get into fights, even bullied a teacher once.

But the truth was, he was looking out for me and the twins. The twins would start the fights, Johnny would end them, and that teacher was my English teacher. He was unnecessarily nasty with me, so Johnny made it his mission to get him out of the school. He scared the shit out of him, and he never came back to school.

As Ryan led us to the living room, I saw an almost older version of him. She wore a lavender blouse and an ivory pencil skirt, off-white opaque pantyhose, and cream-colored heels. She looked a bit tired, her blazer thrown on the chair beside her, a clear extension of her outfit.

“Lilian, welcome,” she said, standing up to welcome Mom. They shook hands, and then she turned to me. “And who’s this charming young lady? She’s the spitting image of you, Lilian,” she commented, making me blush.

“That’s my daughter, Carla,” Mom explained, patting my shoulder. “And this is Johnny, my son. He’s 18,” Mom explained.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” she said, a bit surprised, but that look quickly turned into a pleased, genuine smile. “But I’m pleased to meet you, Carla. You too, Johnny.”

We all sat down, and Mom started explaining everything, using many unkind words when talking about Chrystal, which was very unlike her. Mom was almost done when Ryan walked in with a tray of cold lemonade and cake.

He set down the tray, handing each of us a glass and a piece of cake, then sat down beside his mom, snuggling closer to her, who didn’t hesitate to kiss his forehead and pull him closer. The difference between her and Rebecca was very obvious.

“Well, Johnny, I do agree with your mom,” she started, before taking a sip of the lemonade, pulling Ryan closer to her once more. “This act shouldn’t go unpunished. We can start by filing a police report and press charges, then we file a civil lawsuit. We don’t have to press charges if you don’t want to, but I encourage you to file a lawsuit. And since your mom is a big client of mine, I won’t charge you anything.”

Johnny looked a bit hesitant at first, but then he nodded. “Okay, I think I’ve given Chrystal enough chances,” Johnny finally agreed with a heavy sigh. And so they started talking about all the details, and Johnny showed all the evidence he had. I also joined in, explaining how she was cheating on him, which turns out will be very helpful with the lawsuit.

“Thank you so much, Heather. It was hard enough convincing my son to take this step. He has a big heart,” Mom explained, looking at Johnny with a smirk, while Johnny just rolled his eyes.

“By the way, Ryan, Johnny has this cool motorcycle. Would you like to see it?” Mom explained, and Ryan’s eyes seemed to sparkle, nodding immediately.

His mom chuckled at his reaction, ruffling his hair. It made me feel a bit sad for Nathan. He doesn’t have a mom like mine or Ryan’s mom. If I have to take Rebecca down for him, I will.