Through the adventures of a dreamer best friend and a returning sister.
Jack becomes Jill as they find themselves through a new vocation.

Ingrid sort of pushed it a bit too hard and she’s hit that whole wounded animal mode and she just curls up on the couch and Giselle just sort of watches and she likely wanted to climb in there with her but Ingrid literally has her back to us and herself buried into the couch.
Giselle’s world weary little hurt sigh’s kind of heartbreaking.
I pick her up. “C’mon sweetheart you come with me and we’ll take a nap.”
She gives me this sad and hurt and sleepy nod and plants her face in my shoulder.
Her little fingers are wound into my shirt just too hard.
I use my phone and I text Holly to tell Tay because he’ll never look at his phone right now and I set the alarm and slip into bed with my daughter and roll to my side cradling her and pull the sheets over both of us into the best snuggle I can manage.
I love my daughter...I love her so much it hurts when she hurts.
I really want to be the best mom that I can be.

I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as the bell rings to signify not just the end of the lesson, but the end of the school day, and the entire school term as well- and it’s been a hectic one to say the least. Obviously, I’ve been busy with schoolwork, and ballet, and cheer club too, but ever since the New Year, my life’s got even busier juggling my two sets of friends.

Sophie fidgeted as the excitement of the crowd around her began to intensify. It wasn’t the first wedding that she’d attended- not by a long way- but it still brought with it a clutch of new feelings.

This story very briefly uses the characters Katie, Liam, Pat, Brendan, Niall and Jimmy from my story Some Gave All which I posted here last summer: https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/69181/some-gave-all

This story is related to that one, as it tells about things that happened at the orphanage after those six kids ran away in May of 2006.

Most of the story is told from one boy's viewpoint, i. e., memories of what happened to himself and some other boys there.

Becky continues her narrative of her life, constantly weighing the cost of being who she is.

I'm back in my office fighting tears. I want to know who the complainer is but know it's best I do not. If I knew I would run to her, tell her I too know fear, or at least I did. I was able to escape mine, suppressed it for decades while I receiving daily doses of testosterone against my will, becoming a man. Except I feel fear again now sometimes when I walk alone in the dark from Metro to my car. I no longer feel I could defend myself against an attack.

Doubts

The following is not story. It is a narrative. It doesn’t start at the beginning, and it is not known where it will end. But it will; everything does. There will be several sequential posts as the author is motivated. Since it is a narrative there is no dialogue and it is always in the present tense. The intent is not to entertain but to inform and to incite understanding, context, perspective. Ideally a reader my gain an appreciation where we are today, and what it will take for a better tomorrow. Enjoy.

Every day, I find myself wishing things could go back to the way they used to be.

I'm Richard James Tanner, apparently my great-great-uncle Marshall was the founder of our little corner of Louisiana. I'm fourteen years old, with four sisters. Shelly is nineteen, Paula is seventeen, Elaine is fifteen and Samantha is twelve. Yep, I'm the only boy in the family.

That wishing bit I mentioned is mostly because I truly miss my parents. If mom had not been so damn stubborn! Arrrggghhh!!!!!

Things quietened down quite a bit after dad pulled that stupid stunt in the Skate Park and was beaten so easily by Melissa.

I found it hard to believe she had once been a boy, but she had no reason to lie to me, I suppose. Damn, she is one fine woman!

Only time would tell if she remembered the emails I had given her. It would be nice to talk with someone who understands.

Kozuke gently runs the washcloth through the basin of scented soapy water, and begins to gently sponge the sweat off of her body. For some reason, she is always very sweaty in the morning. He suspects her dreams aren’t pleasant.

"My power flurries through the air into the ground," I sing as I dramatically glide across the stage, my ice blue dress flowing around me with every step I take.

"My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I'm never going back, the past is in the past..."

"Let it go, let it go," I sing, my lungs feeling like they're going to break under the strain.
"And I'll rise like the break of dawn,
Let it go, let it go,
That perfect girl is gone.
Here I stand,
In the light of day,