Authors Note: Hi! Seven chapters left I think. Thank you for all being my beta readers. Your comments are what keeps me excited to continue posting. If you've enjoyed my story there is something you could do for me. Give me some constructive criticism. I'm going to go back through the text and work on grammar, but I'm also considering making a few changes. You could also let me know where you think this is going to go. I wanted to explore if it would be possible for an "established normal" person to transition in a small town, since I am a normal person transitioning in a small town.

Chapter 26 November 14th, 2026

Grace caught herself biting her fingernails as Whit parked the Jeep. Two skinny young men, and one thick young woman were working near the tall open garage door of the Shawnee College Auto Center. The guys were dressed like your typical Southern Illinois “good ol boys” camo hats and aggressive hoodies. The woman was wearing dark coveralls, had her hair tied up over her head. She rolled a wheel across the parking lot. They were all stained with grease.

Grace looked over at Whit in the driver’s seat, “These are the kind of people I try to avoid.”

Whit smiled, “These are the kind of people that fix your truck for free. Be nice,” he said and got out of the car. Grace hesitated before getting out, and standing behind Whit.

The smell hit her first, oil, rubber and something burnt. “Friends in Low Places,” could be heard on a tinny radio somewhere in the shop. Grace saw her truck was parked outside near the garage door.

“Hey, the F-150 right?” One of the young men said as he walked up to Whit. Wiping his hands on a greasy rag that wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, it’s hers.” Whit said and pointed back to Grace who tried to not shrink away.

The guy nodded and smiled, “Yeah, so… You’ve been driving it like that?”

“Yeah, I know it was kind of messed up,” Grace said.

“Kind of…” He chuckled. “Yeah, it was runnin’ pretty rough,” glancing back toward the shop. “Check engine light was on. We pulled codes, you had a couple misfires. Plugs were shot, the coil pack on cylinder three was basically dead.”

The other guy chimed in from behind him. “Air filter was nasty too. Like, real bad. Oil was a quart low, and probably hadn’t been changed in years.”

The woman snorted. “Thing probably couldn’t breathe.”

Grace felt her face warm. “I just… drive it.”

“That’s fine,” the first guy said quickly, not unkindly. “That’s most people.”

He pointed back toward the bay. “We swapped the plugs, threw a new coil on it, cleaned up the throttle body a bit. It’s idling a lot smoother now.”

“And your tires were done,” the woman added, stepping forward. “Like cords showing done.”

Grace blinked. “Oh.”

“We had a set of used ones with some life left,” she said. “Not pretty, but they’ll get you by. Way better than what you had.”

Whit nodded. “That’s great, we really appreciate it.”

The first guy shrugged. “That’s what we’re here for. And listen. Don’t get rid of that truck, it’s a beast. To get abused like that, and still be running. Plus when they drop an EMP on us, all these new cars and trucks won’t even start.”

“Craig, what the hell are you talking about, EMP?” an older man with a grey beard and aviator glasses in school issue coveralls said as he walked up.

The young student turned back towards his teacher, “You know it’s coming Binford, EMPs, then black helicopters.”

The teacher just rolled his eyes and gestured toward the truck. “You can fire it up if you want. Should feel different right away.”

Grace hesitated.

Whit looked back at her. “Go on.”

Everyone was watching her, she froze up for a second, but she glanced at their faces and realized this wasn’t about her, it was about their work. She got in her truck and saw the key in the ignition. It turned over, and instead of sounding like it was choking and sputtering began to hum like a sewing machine.

Grace got out and smiled, “Wow, it’s never run like that.”

“Yeah’ she’s a keeper,” craig said.

“Thanks a ton for this Al, what do we owe?” Whit asked.

Binford took them inside the garage to a small office and pulled a yellow paper off his desk, ”We just had to buy a filter, a set of plugs and a coil. That came to 212.73, the tires are free. “

Grace took her wallet and counted out the cash. “How much would this have cost if it was a regular shop?” she asked.

“Probably about 600 and they wouldn’t give you tires,” Binford said with a grin.

Grace nodded and felt uncomfortable.

On the way out she turned towards the three auto students, “Can I buy you guys lunch or something?” She said as she held out a couple of 20 dollar bills.

They all looked at each other with funny smiles. “Umm, just bring us a case of beer next time,” camo hat guy said.

“You're not old enough to drink Craig,” the woman said with a laugh and went on pushing her tire.

“Yet somehow I end up drunk every Friday night,” Craig said.

Grace felt her cheeks grow warm, “Thank you so much,” she said.

The other young man grinned, “No problem, just keep an eye on your oil.”

***

An hour later Whit paced back and forth in his kitchen. Grace walked in wearing a black sleeveless skater dress. “How do I look?”

Whit stopped pacing and smiled, “You look ready to go tear it up.” He said.

“OK, I changed my mind. I’m not going, I’m coming with you,” she said.

“No, you’re not. I’m doing this alone. And you’re going to go have fun.”

Grace frowned. “I haven’t been skating sinceI was like ten years old, I don’t even think I can. I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

Whit smiled, “it’ll come back to you, it’s like riding a bike. I’m sure you’ll be fine, just be careful.”

Grace walked over and gave Whit a hug, “Thanks so much, for everything.”

Whit felt a warmth spread through his body. Is this what it’s like to be a parent?

“Thank you for being my friend,” he said.

Grace took a step back and swished her skirt around, “So how did Lucy take it?”

Whit took a drink from a glass of water and looked at his watch and thought about how lucky he was that the timing was working out so well. Lucy would be home from work in an hour. He could leave without seeing her. “I don’t know really, she didn’t react much. She wanted to know what it was going to cost, and when I told her insurance covered it she seemed satisfied.”

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird, but I wish she would have gotten mad, or cried, or at least asked questions. She just said, ‘it’s your life.’”

Grace nodded, “Yeah, it’s a big step, she probably hasn’t processed it yet.”

Whit nodded and sat his glass of water on the counter, “I can’t believe I just called a few days ago, and I’m just going to walk in there and get estrogen.”

“I know it’s crazy. It’s like, they really think it’s your body and you should be able to do what you want with it?” Grace said with fake sarcasm.

My appointment is in an hour, I better go.”

Grace nodded, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“You're going to be fine, you’re just going skating with friends.”

“I have friends?” Grace asked.

“I know, I don’t get it either.”

***

Grace did a double take as she pulled into the Skateland parking lot. She was a few minutes early and the rough gravel parking lot was packed. A line of adults stood outside the building. She didn’t see any skater dresses.

She saw Evan in his oversized hoodie standing with a few others near the door. He was carrying a metal skate case. She had to psyche herself up before stepping out of her truck and making her way over.

Grace had been surprised when Evan approached her after the last meeting, and invited her to go skating. but she was the person there closest to their age. Evan made it very clear, “skating with friends” and without really thinking Grace said Okay.

Evan was a little taller than Grace, thinner, and little round glasses. Standing beside them was a tall girl with a mess of curly hair that bounced, she wore thick oversized glasses that kept sliding down her nose every time she giggled, which seemed to be most of the time.

Next to her was a short girl with blue hair, a bit chubby. She had her arm hooked casually through the taller girl’s. She seemed to talk with her body, her free hand moving, and leaning in like everything she said had to be delivered with intensity.

The fourth friend was a lanky girl with long black hair and big eyes. At first Grace thought she was making an exaggerated face at someone, baring her teeth. But then she noticed the faint scarring along her lips. Her expression didn’t change, even when she laughed along with the others.

No one seemed to notice or care, They all looked… comfortable.

Grace hesitated just outside their circle, suddenly aware of the chilly wind cutting through her tights, her short dress whipping around, and how awkward she was standing trying to hide her hands.

Evan saw her and smiled, “Grace, glad you could make it. These are my friends. Guys this is Grace.”

There was an awkward bit of head nodding, and hellos.

The girl with blue hair spoke up, “I’m Angel, and this is my girlfriend Izzy.”

“Nice to meet you, ” Izzy said, with an in-between voice then giggled, “that dress is so cute.”

The dark haired girl spoke up before Grace could respond, “I’m Brooke, and I promise I’m not making faces at you.”

Grace let out a surprised laugh, “Oh, umm, great to meet you all,” Grace said.

The group seemed to naturally open up and swallow Grace into it.

“So when’s the last time you skated?” Brooke asked.

“I think I was like 11? There was a skating rink in Mud Creek when I was a kid, but it's closed now. I was never very good.”

“Great, you'll fit in fine with us,” Izzy said.

There were giggles all around then Brooke said, “Well except for Evan, they can skate.”

They shuffled into line and soon they were in the small hallway that snaked into the rink.

It all came flooding back to her, the little cashier’s window, getting buzzed into the rink, the skate counter, gaudy neon colors, the concession area, and booming pop music. It was like every skating rink was based on the same floor plan.

“This is freaking me out guys, like I’ve never been here, but.” Grace said.

“…but you have,” Evan finished, grinning. “They’re all basically the same.”

“Corporate conspiracy,” Angel added. “Big Skate.”

Izzy snorted. “Don’t listen to her.”

They moved up to the counter. The guy behind it barely looked up as he slid a pair of skates across.

“The skates are all men’s sizes,” Evan said quietly then walked past to the carpeted benches.

“Size? Ma’am, size?” Grace jerked her head back towards the guy behind the counter, she realized she had been staring at Evan’s tush.

Grace hesitated. “Uh… ten? I think?”

“Tent it is,” he said, already turning away.

A minute later she was sitting on one of the low benches, turning the ugly brown skate in her hands like it was something fragile. The laces felt too long, the boot too stiff. Evan had just finished tying their sleek low cut speed skates on.

Grace looked around, the place was packed. “Is there always this many people?”

“Friday 5-7 PM is 18 plus. That’s the only time you can go skating and not have to dodge hundreds of little kids.”

Grace slid a boot on her foot and tried to catch her breath, then shook her head no.

“You’ll remember,” Evan said, dropping down beside her. “It’s weird for like five minutes, then it clicks.”

“Or you fall a lot,” Izzy added cheerfully.

“Or that,” Evan said.

Grace gave a tight smile and started lacing up, pulling a little too hard, then loosening it again. Around her, the others moved like they’d done this a hundred times, tying, standing, rolling a few inches, adjusting.

She pushed herself up carefully.

The floor shifted under her immediately.

“Whoa” She grabbed the back of the bench.

“Yep,” Brooke said. “There it is.”

Grace laughed nervously. “I hate this already.”

Evan stood and offered a hand. “C’mon. Just get to the wall.”

Grace looked at their hand for a second, then took it.

The first few steps were more like controlled falling, her feet sliding out just enough to make her heart jump every time. She kept her eyes down, focused on not completely eating it.

“Don’t look at your feet,” Evan said.

“I have to look at my feet.”

“You don’t. Look where you’re going.”

“I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Exactly.”

Grace let out a breath that turned into a shaky laugh and lifted her head.

The rink opened up in front of her, lights low, music echoing, people weaving past in loose, easy circles. Some fast, some slow, some clearly worse than her, clinging to the wall just like she was.

That helped. A little.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’m… I’m doing it.”

“You’re doing it,” Evan echoed.

They made it to the wall, and Grace immediately grabbed it, fingers curling around the smooth surface.

“I’m not letting go of this,” she said.

“Totally fine,” Brooke said. “That’s phase one.”

“How many phases are there?”

“Like… two,” Izzy said. “Maybe three if you’re dramatic.”

Grace shook her head, smiling despite herself.

A group of skaters passed by, one of them laughing as they nearly tripped, catching themselves at the last second. Nobody stopped. Nobody stared.

Grace watched them go, then looked down at her own feet.

Carefully, she pushed off the wall just an inch.

Then another.

Her stomach flipped, but she didn’t fall.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“You’re,” Evan said.

Grace looked up, a little surprised, “I think I remember how to do this.”

And for a moment, she forgot to be nervous.

After a few more minutes she was skating, not fluidly, but she was having no problem keeping pace with Angel, Brooke, and Izzy, who were all still figuring it out.

But, Evan? Evan slipped their hands in their hoodie pockets and glided from wheel to wheel one foot always off the ground. Then casually pivoted, skating backward in front of the group.

“You’ve done this before,” Grace said.

Evan shrugged, “Yeah, I’m one of those rat rink kids who just never stopped,”

Watching Evan skate was like watching a fish swim, it just came naturally.

Adult night seemed to draw a very eccentric crowd, people of all ages, for more diversity than Grace was used to. Southern Illinois Rednecks, black people, white people, every age, and she was quite certain she spotted other trans people as well.

Grace realized that she was in a crowded public place, wearing a dress, hanging out with people like her, and not a single person cared.

****

Whit pulled into the building, which was surrounded by a tall metal fence. There was no sign announcing this nondescript strip mall was Planned Parenthood, but his phone confirmed it. He stepped out of his jeep and looked at the building, it was very well maintained, the few windows were blacked out. He counted 4 doors, and started walking towards the closest one.

Whit felt his anxiety rising, what if he was being watched, what if someone spotted his car. He pulled the door and found it locked.

“Hey, down here.”

Whit saw a casually dressed security guard pointing at the first door in the building and walked over.

“Hit the button and show them your ID,” the guy said with a smile then walked back to the truck he had been sitting in.

Whit compiled silently, “Hey, got an appointment with us today?” a friendly androgynous voice asked.

“Yeah, Darren Whitlock,” he replied.

“Just flash your ID for the camera please.”

Whit was buzzed through two steel doors. The waiting room was large, and silent. It was painted in lavender and blue, perfectly organized. Bulletproof glass divided him from the receptionist, and that’s when it dawned on him that these places had been the target of attacks and bombings.

The reception was a skinny person in blue medical coveralls. They had gorgeous flowing black hair pulled back with a headband. “Hey there, just let me get that ID and insurance card from you,” they said. Whit noticed their name tag read they/them.

“Two people in their 20s sat in the waiting room holding hands, they reminded Whit of Egon and Erica from his painting class, just a few years older.

The far side of the room held a beautifully designed and equipped play area for kids, enclosed in glass. It was empty and the lights were off.

He was called back to a small dimly lit examination room by a kind and very normal nurse. A small box glowed with blue light and played the sound of ocean waves. She took his blood pressure, which was a bit higher than usual. Her name tag had a little sticker with a pink and blue heart, that said protect trans kids.

“Maybe a little nervous?’ she asked.

“Yeah, maybe,” Whit said.

“OK Darren, what was your gender assigned at birth?”

“Male,”

“OK, so what pronouns do you prefer Darren?”

“Ummm, he/him is fine,” Darren replied.

“And you’re here for feminizing hormone treatment?”

Darren made sure to answer with a convincing “Yes.” Something he wasn’t sure if he actually felt.

“OK, some routine questions, then we’ll get the doctor in to see you.

The next several questions were the typical assortment, medications, pharmacy, do you smoke, drink, use drugs, surgeries, family medical history. Then Whit was thrown a curveball.

When was the last time you were tested for STDs?”

“Umm, never I guess?” Whit replied.

“OK, that includes HIV/Aids?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess?” Whit said.

“OK, never been tested for HIV/Aids,” she said as she typed into the keyboard.

“Estimated sexual partners in the last 12 months?” she asked.

“Umm,” Whit stammered.

“Just a rough estimate,” she said with a smile.

“One,” Whit replied.

“OK, one sexual partner. What are you using for birth control, pill, condom, dam, ect?”

“Umm, nothing,” White responded.

“OK, any kids?”

“No,” Whit said.

“Do you have sex with male partners or female partners or both?”

“Female,” white blurted out.

“OK, any sexual trauma or coercion in your past?”

“No,”

“Great, OK, we can skip the section about menstruation,” she said with a smile. “History of depression, suicidal thoughts? Have you ever been hospitalized for mental health?”

“No,”

“Do you have support from friends and family?”

Whit paused, did he? He hadn’t told his parents, did Lucy support him? Grace certainly did. “Yes,” he replied.

“Great, now are you receiving mental health services?”

“I go to a support group, but it’s not formal I guess.”

“Great, that about wraps my part up. Did you have to take off work for today?” she asked with a warm smile.

Whit felt himself relax a bit, finally a question he was comfortable with. “Yeah, I took the whole day off. I helped my friend get her truck fixed.”

“That’s so kind of you, we’re going to get you in the lab soon. Really sorry, it’s got to be done. Then the doctor will see you and you’ll be good to go.”

Whit sat alone with his thoughts, No one had ever asked him questions like that before. This is my life now. He felt exposed, vulnerable and small. For some reason it both scared and comforted him.

The lab tech was like a big fuzzy teddy bear, he made such a big deal out of drawing blood. “It’s really fine,” Whit said. He barely felt it.

After a short wait in the exam room a well put together woman with a serious demeanor came in. “Hello, I’m Sarah,” she said and shook his hand.

Whit was suddenly hit with a wave of doubt. Her name is Sarah, if I change my name to Sarah she’s going to think I’m some kind of weirdo copycat. Her question brought him back to now.

“OK, Darren, you’re interested in taking Male to Female feminizing hormone therapy correct?”

“Yeah, I mean, yes.” Whit was surprised at the softness of his voice.

“OK I’m going to give you this form, and explain the effects.”

She set the laminated sheet down in front of him, rotating it so he could read it. It was divided into two columns, neat bullet points, color coded.

Sarah tapped the left side with her pen.

“So, some of these changes are considered partially reversible. Things like decreased libido, changes in spontaneous erections, some emotional changes, and redistribution of body fat over time. Skin can get softer. You may notice less muscle mass.”

Whit nodded again, eyes tracking the page without really reading it.

She moved the pen to the right column.

“These are the ones we consider not reversible, or only minimally reversible. Breast development is the big one. Once that tissue develops, it doesn’t go away without surgery. Fertility can also be permanently affected. Some people choose to bank sperm ahead of time if that’s something they want to preserve.”

Whit swallowed, barely noticeable.

Sarah continued, calm, steady.

“Changes happen gradually. You’re usually looking at months to start noticing things, and a few years for full effects. Everyone’s a little different.”

She glanced up at him briefly.

“The goal isn’t to rush anything. We start low, monitor labs, adjust as needed. You’re always in control of the process.”

Whit’s eyes caught on a single word on the page. Breast development.

He felt that strange mix again, something low in his stomach. Fear and excitement mixed together.

Sarah kept going.

“You might also notice changes in how you feel emotionally. Some people describe it as having a wider range, or experiencing things differently. That’s normal.”

Whit nodded again, a little too quickly.

“Do you have any questions so far?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Okay,” she said, like that was expected. “We’ll go over labs and dosing next, but I want to make sure you feel comfortable with everything here first.”

Whit looked down at the sheet again, and handed it back to her. The last minute had been kind of a blur.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable.”

“OK, I just need you to sign here and here that you’re giving informed consent to start treatment,” she said.

Darren signed.

“Now, what are your goals?”

Whit had no idea how to answer. Why hadn’t he thought about this? Shouldn’t he know this? He had goals didn’t he?

“I just want to start slow, just keep it slow,” he heard the words come out of his mouth but didn’t remember forming them.

“Yeah, we tend to keep it slow at first, monitor labs and check again in three months. It’s all really based on how you feel at every every step,” she said.

Whit left with a prescription called into his small local pharmacy for Estradiol and Spironolactone and a follow up appointment in three months. When he exited back outside through the security doors the security guard stepped out of his truck and came towards him.

‘Don’t drive out the way you came in.” He pointed across the parking lot. “Drive over there to the gate and wait for it to rise. Have a nice day.”

Whit nodded. Will he remember me when I come back in three months? Will I remember me? As he pulled out onto Route 13 he was hit with the sudden realization he was going to have to go to his pharmacy and pick up his prescription. A prescription that had only one purpose.