It's the FINAL FLASHBACK chapter.

Chapter 21 January 9th, 2024

Grace set her lunch tray down across from Angie and glanced behind her. Kylie and Mitch were still in line.

Angie didn’t look up. She slid a folded paper note across the table. Grace slipped it into her pocket.

“Thanks,” Grace said, forcing herself to take a bite.

“Yeah, no problem. You can pay me later. Everything’s set for tonight.” Angie lowered her voice. “Ava said we can both stay there. They’ll help us find jobs and all that shit.”

Grace’s stomach turned. She looked over her shoulder again, suddenly sure she was going to throw up.

“You told them I was eighteen?”

Angie shrugged. “Yeah. Of course. They wouldn’t rent us the room otherwise.”

Grace pushed her food around with her fork. She couldn’t eat. “I can’t do this. We’re going to get caught.”

Angie’s jaw tightened. “Have you told anyone?”

Grace shook her head quickly. “No. No one.”

Angie reached across the table and covered Grace’s hand. Her grip was firm, almost reassuring. “Then how would we get caught? Just follow the directions I wrote you.”

“Couldn’t we just wait?” Grace asked. “Until I graduate?”

Angie leaned back, eyes hardening. “Sure. I’ll stop giving you girl juice.”

Grace flinched.

Angie went on, quieter now. “Do you really think you can keep hiding it? Your Mom’s gonna notice. She’ll probably make you get a haircut again. You think you can survive another year and a half in this shithole, Grayson?”

“Fuck you,” Grace said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Angie sighed. “I’m just being real with you. This is the only way we get free.”

Kylie and Mitch dropped into their seats, and the four of them fell into gossip about the shop teacher like nothing had happened.

***

Grace checked her watch. 7:00 a.m. She had barely slept.

Her phone sat on the nightstand, freshly wiped from a factory reset. She had done the same to her desktop PC.

At midnight, she had listened to her mom snore for ten full minutes before carefully creeping out of the house to hide a duffle bag in the bushes.

Now she slipped her new phone into the pocket of her baggy boy jeans. She took out her leather wallet, thick with cash. She pulled on a loose American Eagle T-shirt and went downstairs.

Breakfast was already going. Scrambled eggs, toast. Fox News murmured from the TV.

Her mom barely looked at her, just commented about her hair getting long. How it was time to stop by the barber shop.

Grace flinched.

Angie was right. She was leaving this world one way or another.

She said her goodbyes like it was any other morning.

Outside, she retrieved the duffle bag from the bushes. Angie’s 1996 Hyundai Excel waited at the end of the driveway, engine already running.

Grace climbed in.

She was free.

***

Grace rolled over on her mattress. Her nipples ached, the dull, sore kind of pain that never quite went away anymore. She smiled thinking about it. She checked her phone. 11:07 a.m.

Did she work today? What day even was it?

She got out of bed to quick and her head spun. Music thumped somewhere upstairs, voices overlapping, laughing too loud. Angie was already gone, she had a morning shift. Grace pushed herself upright and leaned against the wall, fumbling for the ibuprofen on the nightstand. The bottle was empty. It clattered to the floor.

Things were not going well.

There were five girls living in the three-bedroom, two-bath bungalow near Gravois Park. Something was always happening, parties bleeding into mornings, arguments that never quite resolved, people coming and going.

And then there was the camming.

The basement had been turned into a makeshift studio, all pastel walls and cheap string lights, a space that was always “occupied.” It seemed like someone was always down there in front of the ring light and laptop making some gooner’s dreams come true.

Grace learned quickly not to linger down there.

She had also learned how visible she was now. Men shouting from cars, men trying to talk to her on the bus, men slowing down when she walked home. Sometimes angry, sometimes smiling, almost always entitled. Like she existed for them to fuck with.

One of the girls had helped her get a job at a queer community thrift store. Twelve hours a week. Enough for groceries if she was careful. She’d arrived with five hundred dollars. She was down to fifty.

But at least she was trying.

A knock came at her door. Not really a knock, more like a confident tap.

“Grace?”

Miasey didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed the door open and leaned against the frame like she owned the place. Which Grace realized, she in fact did, or least she leased the place. She was already dressed, makeup perfect, phone in her hand.

“Hey,” Maisey said, cheerful. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Grace’s stomach tightened. “Okay?”

Maisey stepped into the room, her purple curls bouncing behind her head and her eyes flicking around behind thick black eyeliner. “You need money. Like, real money. And you’re already doing all the work.” She gestured vaguely at Grace. “I’d like to help you out.”

Grace sat up straighter. “Help me how?”

Maisey smiled. “I’m gonna set you up with your own OnlyFans. I’ll help you with everything. Account, photos, pricing. You don’t even have to post right away.”

The words landed heavy and wrong.

“I don’t think I” Grace started.

“Relax,” Maisey said quickly. “I’m not pushing you into anything. This is about options. You deserve options.”

She held up her phone. “I’ve already started the account. If you want to finish I just need your ID. It’s required for verification. Takes like five minutes.”

Grace’s mouth went dry.

“I don’t want to do this. I’m sorry.”

Maisey frowned, just slightly. “Look, Angie told me you’re almost broke. I know you’re going to have a hard time with money next month. Do you want to go back to Bum Fuck Illinois?”

“I… “

Maisey cut her off. “Look Grace, the earning potential for a transsexual high school drop out isn’t very promising. Why do you think we do this? You’ve got assholes looking at you for free everyday. With this they pay to look at you. You’ll make at least 500 a month, maybe more if you’re talented.”

Maisey saw Grace's purse, the cute floral crossbody Angie had bought her from the thrift store where they both worked, sitting on the dresser. She went over and pulled out her wallet.

“Wait, um, my ID isn’t in there,” Grace yelled.

Maisey sat the purse down, “Okay, but you have one, right?”

Grace didn’t answer fast enough.

Maisey’s smile faded, replaced by something sharper. “Grace.”

The room felt suddenly too small.

“Why won’t you show me your ID?”

“I don’t know about camming and stuff,” Grace said.

“I’m not talking about camming, if you don’t want to fine, but why can’t I see your ID?”

Grace mumbled something about it being lost, or washed, or something.

“How old are you?” Maisey asked.

Grace stared at the floor.

Somewhere upstairs, someone laughed. Music thumped harder.

“Grace?” Maiseysaid again, slower this time.

Grace didn’t answer.

Maisey picked up the purse and pulled out the boys leather bifold wallet. Grace was planning on getting a girl's wallet, but kept forgetting. Maisey opened it and found the driver’s license.

Silence.

Maisey put the wallet back in the purse and sat it down. She turned her gaze to Grace and lowered her brow.

“I turn eighteen in October,” Grace said quickly, the words tumbling out. “I thought it wouldn’t matter.”

Maisey stepped back like Grace had moved toward her.

“No,” she said. “No. That matters. That matters a lot.”

She shook her head, “We can’t do this. We can’t have this.”

Grace felt the floor tilt beneath her. “I’m not asking you to”

You’re a minor. Do you fucking realize what that means, especially in this fucking state. In this fucking country. Your a fucking time bomb. You can’t stay here.”

Maisey walked out the room.

***

“Thanks again for the ride,” Grace said as she handed a twenty dollar bill through Angie’s rolled down window.

The girl folded the bill and stuck it in her bra. “No problem, should I stick around, in case..” Angie said.

“Thanks, but you don’t need to. I have nowhere else to go.”

Angie wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but you’ll be 18 in less than a year. I’ll have saved up a fat stash. We’ll get our own place.”

Grace nodded, “Sure, thanks for everything, you’ve been a good friend.” One lie deserved another Grace thought.

Angie smiled “Oh and I put some more girl juice in your bag. Love ya Sister.”

They hugged and Grace walked down her father’s drive to a house she’d only been to a few times.

Her Mom and Dad, Debbie and Nick, were divorced just a bit after she turned 16. Grace never knew it, but she come to understand that her Dad liked to fool around, as the Baptists would say. He was now living with a woman named Bella, who was ten years younger than him and had a six year old.

Before running away she stayed with her Mom, but had the option of weekends with her Dad. He was nicer to her, but Grace felt like she was interrupting. She didn’t get up to see her Dad much.

Her Mom’s car was parked in the driveway.

“Goddamn it Dad,” Grace said to herself. “You weren’t supposed to tell her.”

She walked up and rang the doorbell. Nick opened the door and did a double take.

“Grayson?”

Grace froze. Not because of the name, but because of the look on his face. Shock, relief, fear, all tangled together.

“It’s Grace,” she said quietly.

Nick swallowed. “Okay. Okay.” He stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in. Please.”

The house smelled like dinner and something floral, a candle maybe. It didn’t feel like a place she belonged.

Debbie came out of the kitchen when she heard voices. She stopped short when she saw Grace. Bella followed her out.

“Oh my God,” her mother said. Then, louder, “Oh my God.”

Grace dropped her bags by the door. She felt suddenly aware of everything she hadn’t hidden. The makeup. The sweater slipping off one shoulder, the thin strap of her bra visible. Her hair curled and deliberate, her makeup, her nails, her earrings and the little floral crossbody purse she wore were all going to be a shock for her parents.

“I’m sorry,” Grace said. She meant it, mostly. “I shouldn’t have run.”

Her mother crossed the room and hugged her, hard and fast, like she was checking to make sure she was real. Nick hovered nearby, not touching, afraid to do the wrong thing.

“We were so worried,” Debbie said. “Do you have any idea”

“I know,” Grace said. Her voice was steadier than she expected. “I know.”

They sat. No one knew where to put her. Grace took the edge of the couch. Bella excused herself back to the kitchen. Nick explained that Bella’s son was at a friend's house, then cleared his throat. “We just want to understand what happened.”

Grace nodded. “I can tell you. But I’m not going to lie anymore.”

Her mother stiffened.

“I’m not doing that again,” Grace said. “I’m not pretending. I’m not cutting my hair. I’m not stopping.”

Silence settled over the room.

Debbie looked at Nick. Nick looked at Grace then got up and rubbed his hands together. “Maybe it’s better if we slow this down. Just for now.”

“I already did slow it down,” Grace said. “For years.”

No one argued with that.

Debbie tensed. “What happened to you? Where did you go?” The school had truancy officers looking for you. We filed a missing person report. You didn’t even call! You didn’t even call us. How could you do that!”

Grace calmly said, “I was living in a house with a bunch of girls in St. Louis. I worked at a thrift store.”

Grace’s lack of emotion pushed Debbie to break. “You traded your future to.” Debbied raised her open palm up and down in Grace’s direction. “look like this and work at a thrift store!”

Nick felt anger and reacted. He slammed a hand down on the cabinet nearby. “Goddamn it Debbie, that's not going to help. Do you want to drive Grayson away again?”

Grace flinched, please don’t call me Grayson, my name is Grace, I’m a girl.”

Debbie stood up, “Your name is Grayson, we gave you that name when you were born a boy. As God made you.”

Grace felt something in her chest go quiet. Not break. Just… shut down.

Nick exhaled sharply. “Debbie. Sit down.”

“No,” Debbie said. “I will not sit down and pretend this is normal. She disappears for a month, humiliates us, puts us through hell, and walks back in here like this is some kind of phase she picked up in the city?”

Grace met her eyes. “I didn’t do this to you.”

Debbie laughed, sharp and brittle. “You ran away.”

“I left,” Grace said and felt her tightly controlled calm slip away. “Because every time I tried to tell you who I was, you told me I was wrong. You eventually sent me to fucking conversion camp. Do you know how many times I’ve thought of killing myself! ”

Nick rubbed his face, pacing now. “This isn’t helping. None of this is helping.”

Bella had stayed quiet, hovering near the doorway with her arms crossed and an oven mit on her hand. She spoke carefully, each word measured. “I think everyone needs to take a breath.”

Debbie turned on her. “This is my child.”

“And this is my house,” Bella said, not unkindly. Just firm.

That did it.

Nick stopped pacing. He looked at Bella, then at Grace, then at Debbie. His shoulders slumped. His ex-wife glared at the younger woman and sat down on the couch.

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you. Let’s slow down.”

Grace almost laughed. Almost.

Debbie shook her head, tears welling now, anger collapsing into panic. “What are we supposed to do? Just let him live like this?”

Grace spoke before Nick could. Her voice was tired, but steady. “I promise, I’ll get a job, I’ll get an apartment. I just need a place to stay for a while, then I’ll get out of your hair. You’ll never see me again.”

Debbie was crying now.

Nick cleared his throat. “Grace… we’re glad you’re alive. We are. When I got that call, I thought.” He stopped himself. “We just want you safe.”

Bella chimed in, “You can stay with us.”

Debbie bit her tongue.

Graced nodded, “Thank you, but the truth is that I don’t feel like I belong here.”

Nick nodded slowly, as if convincing himself. “The trailer’s still there. The hunting trailer by Palestine. It’s got power, and water.”

Grace felt the shape of it immediately. Not an offer. A compromise adults could live with.

Bella relaxed a fraction. Debbie didn’t look relieved, but she didn’t object either.

“You can stay there as long as you want,” Nick said quickly. “I can check on you. I’ll pay to get your utilities back on.”

“How long?” Grace asked.

Nick hesitated. “It’s not that far from the college, if that’s something you’d want to do. You can even have my old truck.”

Grace nodded. “Thank you,” she said.

Debbie’s head snapped back toward Grace then Nick. She realized she had lost any say in the matter.

Grace looked across the couch. “Mom, I’m sorry I can’t be your son, but I can be your daughter.”

Debbie stood up and shoulder her purse. “I love you, and I always will but I can’t play pretend,”

Nick swallowed hard.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said.

Debbie left without a word. Nick came back in, “I know it doesn’t seem like it but your mother does love you, and she’s glad you came back.”

Grace smiled weakly, “Sure Dad.”