I sat in the classroom and stared at the clock, willing it to move faster.
It was second period and the teacher droned on about geometry proofs. I was bored out of my mind. Of course, I had already learned all of this years ago.
I tried not to make eye contact with other students and hoped no one would notice Grace acting weird. I hadn’t talked to any of them except to say hi. Grace seemed to be well-liked and friendly, but I had no idea who her friends were or how I was supposed to act around them. The last thing I wanted was to raise suspicions.
“Grace, are you feeling okay?” the girl sitting next to me whispered.
“Just tired,” I mumbled.
“You were zoning out.”
She seemed genuinely concerned, and I tried to act normal. I hadn’t been in high school for nearly twenty years. How was I supposed to blend in?
I shifted slightly in my seat, still getting used to the way the padded bra pushed against the desk when I leaned forward.
As soon as class ended, I made a beeline for the bathroom. It was overwhelming, walking through these halls, hearing snippets of conversations about things that felt lightyears away from me—dance committees and AP classes, someone’s bad date over the weekend.
I needed a moment alone. In the bathroom stall, I took a deep breath and pressed my back against the door. Was running in a meet really going to fix this? It sounded crazy. Everything about this was crazy.
I took a deep breath before heading back out to the hall.
“Hey, Grace! Ready for track practice?” It was a tall girl with curly blonde hair who looked far too cheerful for my current mood.
“Uh… yeah! Definitely,” I stammered, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowds of students.
“You’re going to crush it today! I saw you practicing last week. You’ve really improved!”
“Oh, uh, thanks…”
We stepped into the locker room, the sound of lockers slamming and laughter filling the air.
“Okay, let’s get changed!” the blonde girl chirped, tossing her bag onto a bench.
“Right,” I replied, skirting around the edges of the room as I searched for a spot to keep my head down.
Laughter rang out as girls pulled their shirts over their heads, tossed their bras into lockers. Bodies in various stages of undress jostled around me without a hint of embarrassment. I was surrounded by skin and curves, girls changing into sports bras and shorts with a casual ease I couldn’t even fathom. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, shuffling awkwardly as I tried to find a space that felt safe.
I pulled on the track shorts, feeling the fabric hug my legs in a way that was entirely too snug for my liking. The tank top followed, and I caught sight of myself in the mirror—sweaty, nervous, and very much a girl about to step into the chaos of high school athletics.
“C’mon, Grace! Let’s go!” The blonde girl waved as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out of the locker room.
“Yeah, coming!” I called back, forcing my feet to move forward.
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