Woman

W hen I get up the next morning, I feel an excitement I haven’t felt for a long time. My life isn’t what I’ve been imagining for the past few years, but maybe it will be better. After all, a university so secret that you have to practically navigate the Labyrinth to locate even its website has to be a huge plus on your resume. No matter what happens there, attending alone will make my future brighter.

I roll out of bed, opening the window for a moment to let Dottie out into the tree outside to do her business. I know that she won’t bolt; she’s stayed close to me from the moment I discovered her and I don’t think she’s going to run away now. Before I get dressed, I walk over to the wall by my door and get down on my knees. There’s a vent here that allows me to hear some of what’s going on downstairs and though I don’t feel the need to use it often, this morning I need to know where everyone is so I can work out how to go shopping without a lot of questions.

I also need to know where they’re going so I can sneak my purchases back in.

Pressing my ear to the vent, I listen carefully, hoping to catch at least a few snatches of conversation.

“... boys are sleeping. We won’t wake them until… Yes, I agree. Their success makes us… Even the Mayor was there…”

That’s Allison, and she sounds so excited. I’m surprised she’s not squealing. I don’t know if she’s talking on the phone or to Brett, though. It wouldn’t do to decide based on half info, so I close my eyes and stay quiet.

“... well Brett is out playing a round with the City Council… Can you imagine? I know, Betsy, it’s like we hit gold… even after they leave, we’ll be the darlings. I’m beside myself…”

My eyes cross as I hear my foster mother go on and on about their climb to the top of small town society like she’s ascending the throne of England. At least her babbling let me know Brett is out and the boys aren’t, but that could change at any moment. Since she’s distracted in the kitchen, if I get dressed quickly, I’ll be able to sneak out the front with Dottie and she might not even hear me. That’s good news for me.

Scrambling to my feet, I throw on jeans and a sweatshirt, working my feet into tennis shoes quickly. Dottie comes back in, climbing into my bag as soon as I open it. I close the window, murmuring praise for her as I run a brush through my hair. I don’t need to bother with it much; part of my plan for today is chopping it off into some style that will help me protect my ‘Kit’ identity. After I grab my phone and open the door to my room slowly.

No one in the hallway—I should be clear.

I use my knowledge of the creaky areas on the floor to get around them without making a noise and then creep down the stairs. Pausing at the bottom, I listen for Allison, but she’s still yammering in the kitchen. I wing a prayer of thanks to the universe, pull the front door open, and exit quickly. Heading down the stairs of the porch, I jog down the sidewalk and get as far from the Jamesons’ house as possible. I need to call a rideshare to get to the mall because if I shop downtown, someone will tattle on me. People here have not enough to do and plenty of time to call one another to gossip. The last thing I need is Brett and Allison to sit me down to have a talk about my sudden penchant for boys’ clothing.

Turning my phone on, I use the app to book one, checking the picture of the driver to make certain it’s not someone from the neighborhood. Lots of graduates stay close when they can’t afford college and gigs like this make it easy for them to continue their previous high lifestyle of partying it up with the locals. I don’t want the older sister or brother of one of the twins’ friends to recognize me. Sighing, I run my hand over my face.

You’d think I wouldn’t have to sneak around to go get a haircut, but that’s small town life for you.

I plop down on a bench in the park, peeking in my bag to make sure Dottie is okay. She chitters softly and I ruffle my hand over her head. This is the best behaved wild animal I’ve ever seen and I can’t imagine she wasn’t living domestically rather than in a zoo. But who would let an adorable creature like her go without trying to find her? I have found nothing online, which is odd despite her exotic status. Someone should be looking for my new friend, but they aren’t.

Just another topsy-turvy thing in my world lately, I guess. Since the early admission day, nothing has been what I expected; why should Dottie be any different?

When the car finally pulls up, I look at the picture again, then hop in. “I need to go to Woodlawn Mall.”

The driver nods, not replying as he pulls away from the curb. I look at him curiously, making sure I’ve never seen the guy before. He’s older than most of the rideshare people I encounter with a severe jaw, smartly pressed suit, and classical music on the radio. I flop back against the seat of the black sedan, watching the scenery go by in the silent car as we head for the expressway. There’s something odd about this ride, but whatever it is, it isn’t dangerous enough to really set off my alarm bells.

That doesn’t mean I’m not keeping 911 dialed on my phone in case I have to push it in an emergency.

My lip curls in a rueful smirk as I consider that. Men have no idea how often women and girls do shit like this. We have to be on guard all the time, watching and keeping our surroundings in mind so we don’t end up in a real-life version of a Criminal Minds episode. Everything from jogging to fucking taxis is hunting grounds and we can’t trust anyone we meet lest we end up trafficked to some Eastern European ring or a dude with lotion and a bucket.

Welcome to being a female in the year of our lord 2024, folks.

After my lovely internal musing, I’m anxious as hell to get out of this car. Lurch takes the tip I hand him with a grunt and I scramble out of the car like my feet are on fire. Holding onto my bag, I head into the mall, not even looking back at the car. I’m probably paranoid, but hell, if I’m going to stop listening to my gut—the one time I did that, it was a complete disaster. No amount of therapy will ever change my regret at not following my instincts back then, so I’m much more cautious now.

Pausing at the map just inside the door, I frown. I doubt the places I’d normally go will suffice for this trip; I need to find an entirely new look to rock when I go to Discordia. That way, no one will connect Kit with the old Kat and figure me out. I find the basic salon inside, intent on getting the hair first so I can build my Kit character with that. Playing to a stereotype will make it easier to convince people I belong in a certain box and they won’t question anything odd I do to keep myself from being discovered as a fraud.

Ugh. That means I’ll have to create an entirely new social media to go with this shit. Shoot me now.

I’m not addicted to that shit like most people, but I also know it will help me keep my ear to the grapevine. If there are any rumors floating around, someone inevitably posts random, vague shit that eventually translates to figuring out what or who the problem is. Using social engineering, I should be able to pretend to give a crap and fake it until I make it. I’ll have to claim my parents wouldn’t let me on it to cover because it’s brand new. There are people with parents overprotective enough for that nowadays, and it might even make me more sympathetic.

‘Don’t beat that kid up, his parents didn’t allow TikTok’ seems like a good sentiment to encourage.

Shaking my head, I make my way to the salon. I’ve never been here; Allison takes me to the one downtown where she goes. She always comes with me and I suppose it’s making sure I do nothing that would embarrass her. It’s not like she spends time with me while there—she drops me off and heads to the beehive of Woodlawn moms, Common Grounds , to chitter away with her friends. I’ve never cared; I prefer having the time to close my eyes and relax without being disturbed.

Today, I need to make my own decisions, though. I have to get something that will sufficiently put people off of my scent and leave no doubts. So much bullshit gender role crap I have to do just to ensure my secret stays that way. I’ll just get it cut in a shorter, floppy looking thing that makes me innocuous and shy.

“Welcome to Short Cuts. How can we help you today?”

The person at the desk looks completely badass. Their hair is bright green and cut in a longer, angled undercut that’s razored on the ends. The buzzed parts are a coordinating green that makes it look like a gradient and I can’t help but stare. This is what I need to do—something so different and gender neutral that no one will even consider looking closer. It’s the peacock effect.

“I want something like you have. I can’t go with wild colors yet, I don’t think, but the style is amazing. Is that weird? Does it make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry if it does.” Babbling is all I can manage as I give them a sheepish look.

“Naw, it’s cool. I’m Jayden and I think you’ll look fantastic when you shear all that weight off. It’s a bitch if you decide to grow it back out, but the freedom from gallons of styling products is rad. What if we take it dark with some bright undertones? No unnatural colors this time.”

Allison and Brett will lose their minds when I show up like this, but luckily, it’s fall. I can hide it under a beanie for a bit.

I grin at Jayden and nod. “Let’s do it.”

An hour later, I walk out of Short Cuts feeling like a brand new person. Jayden took my hair dark, almost black, and used a dark burgundy to put lowlights underneath. If I pull the long part up, it will look amazing. Now I just need a basic wardrobe to match the persona of Kit—a little edgier and a lot tougher. I won’t be able to go full on stereotypical scene kid, but I can look alt enough to fit in the right boxes.

I thought it was annoying to pretend to be more obsequious than I am by nature, but this role I’m going to create for Kit will drive me crazy if I can’t settle into it. Frowning, I walk past more traditional stores, heading for the section of the mall that has darker stores full of anime and ripped denim. I don’t need any spikes or leather, but I bet I can find the right things to make myself feel less fake. If I get enough to cover myself for the first bit of school, I can use scholarship funds for more later on.

The salesperson in the Raging Trends doesn’t give me a stink eye for not looking like their typical customer, and I’m grateful. I have zero experience with this shit and I’m happy to let someone help me figure out what will look good, but not make me completely uncomfortable. Once I have an arm full of clothes, I head for the dressing room to try them on. I look at each combo individually with Dottie chittering her approval, then figure out which ones can be mixed and matched in other ways to maximize my expenditures. When I make my decisions, I head to the front to pay, wincing at how much trendy, ripped shit costs.

It’s all in service of a better future, Kat. You had to spend your savings on life, eventually.

Now I have to sneak all of this shit into the house and hide it until my weird saviors clear my application and ride in on their white horses.

Simple, right?