Simon's Friend

Despite the homophobic names being hurled at him, the boys of Hillrain Academy weren't actually scared of Simon Finner. In fact, Simon's gentle nature and quiet disposition emboldened the likes of Charlie Dull and his overgrown followers to bully him even more.

On this occasion, however, Simon had done something Charlie Dull could never have predicted.

Mr Kingsley sat staring at the bruised, bloody boy in front of him. He ensured his office door was closed and spoke;

"So, Simon, I gather you like wearing make-up. When did that become your thing exactly?"

Simon wiped residual blood from his nose and kept his eyes on the floor.

Kingsley continued, "I'm just trying to establish how being a boy who wears make-up makes it OK for you to break Charlie Dull's nose."

Don't cry. Whatever you do, do not cry. Simon closed his eyes and was back in the safety of his bedroom. Ashley was there. All was well.

They sat side-by-side at Simon's dressing table talking to each other's reflections. Together, he and Ashley adorned their faces with eyeshadows of flamingo pink, dark chocolate and lipsticks the colour of chillies. In a fairy-light haze of mascara and setting powder, eyelash glue and Mama Cass songs, Simon and his friend performed their beautifying ritual from a box of cosmetics that would have provoked the envy of Barbara Cartland.

"Do you think I could be famous?" Asked Ashley, theatrically smoking her eye shadow brush like Bette Davis.

Simon laughed vaguely, lost in his reflection.

"What's the matter?" She asked, pushing back her auburn mass of back-combed hair, heavy with lacquer.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." Simon said, "you're everything I want to be."

"So, you still want to become a woman one day?" She asked, rummaging through the make-up box and extracting an eyebrow pencil.

"It's not a want," Simon replied, "it's a need. It's my cure."

Ashley raised one sketched eyebrow admonishingly. "Stop saying that. You're not sick. You don't need to change your gender to justify your lifestyle."

"Try telling that to everyone else," Simeon found the liquid eyeliner and began stroking a stripe across his eyelid, "my ashamed parents, my sister who won't even look at me, Mr Kingsley, Charlie Dull and the puberty pirates he hangs around with."

"It's not them who need to be told, Simon, it's you. You can't solve other people’s problems by changing."

Simeon's hand began to shake. "Look at me, Ashley. If I become a woman, it will all make sense. I will make sense."

"Make sense to who?" Ashley's patience began to dissolve, "Simon, do you make sense to you?"

"Yeah," Simon answered.

"Then that's your cure. It's not about altering your identity to avoid upsetting everyone too ignorant to just accept you. Forget them!"

Ashley's words had such a powerful effect, as always. Firing through Simon like comets of wisdom.

The scraping of Mr Kingsley's pen brought Simon back into the moment.

"You're going to write Charlie Dull a letter of apology. You're also suspended for a week. Do you understand, Finner?"

Simon watched his headmaster's mouth move but took no notice whatsoever of his words.

"No!" Simon found himself saying. His heart began to race.

"What did you say?" Kingsley looked at him, mortified.

"Charlie Dull deserved it! If he wasn't calling me names, I wouldn't have broken his nose." Simon locked eyes with Mr Kingsley. His stomach did terrified back flips but he wasn't going to stop now. "But Charlie isn't in any trouble because he's normal, isn't that right, sir?"

"Charlie Dull is a decent young man with excellent sporting potential." Kingsley's voice began to boom with rage. But Simon's determination to be heard only grew.

"Shut up, sir!" Simon rose to his feet. "I'm also a decent young man. I may do things a bit differently but I'm a good person. You punish me for being myself. As for Charlie, his nose will get better. But your ignorance won't."

Kingsley then spotted something in Simon's hand. "What have you got there?" he asked, concerned it was a weapon.

Simon tossed it to his headmaster. Mr Kingsley caught the item to discover it was compact mirror. "Have a long, hard look at yourself, sir.” Simon said, “see you in a week."

Simon stormed from office, a sensation of relief, shock and empowerment tore through him as he ran all the way home.

Ashley wasn't there, though. Simon knew she wouldn't be as he sat down at his dressing table.

He ran his fingers through the auburn wig before placing into a drawer. He looked at his reflection and realised his freedom.

He'd loved being Ashley. Her wisdom, her attitude, her unconditional acceptance.

But Simon decided it was far better to simply be himself.