Tag: fantasy

Something caught his eye as he walked along, feeling sorry for himself, not even trick-or-treating.

 

One of the houses up ahead had the coolest Halloween decorations Leo had ever seen.

 

There was a big, inflatable ghost out front, and several tombstones with skeletal hands climbing out of them. The bushes and trees were laden with cottony cobwebs and giant spiders with glowing red eyes. Dry ice cauldrons filled the yard with eerie fog. There were purple and orange lights strung up everywhere, including a big, orange arrow affixed to the side of the house, pointing toward the back of the house.

 

Mesmerized, Leo forgot himself, following the flashing orange arrow with a mouth hung open in wonder.

 

He walked down a little brick path to a wooden deck attached to the back of the house. The deck was strung up with lights, too, and party music blasted from speakers. There were more kids here, mingling with one another and eating snacks and drinking pop.

 

Leo steeled himself, taking a breath.

 

He could do this.

 

If only for the snacks, he could do this.

 

Leo climbed up the deck stairs. He filled a red solo cup with Coke and walked over to a group of boys leaning against the railing and talking and eating.

 

Alright. Here we go.

 

“Hey,” Leo said, deepening his voice. He coughed.

 

The boys looked up. One of them nodded his head at him. Leo guessed this was the highly-studied “bro nod.” “Hey.”

 

Leo nodded back. “So.” He fished his awkward, stupid brain for something to say. “What’s up?”

 

“The costume contest is in like fifteen minutes,” one of the other boys offered.

 

“Oh!” Leo perked up. Then he schooled his expression, matching the passivity of the other boys. “Uh, cool.”

 

“Yeah, for kids,” a third boy piped up. “Look at that girl’s costume. Is she a ladybug or a pimple?”

 

That got some laughs. Leo laughed nervously along.

 

“What’s your costume?” one of the boys asked him.

 

“Oh, my mom made me wear it,” Leo said, and the annoyance in his voice was genuine. “I think it’s supposed to be, like, Aladdin, or something.”

 

“Bro, that sucks,” the first boy said. “My mom made me go as Batman but I ditched that shit the moment I left.”

 

Leo thought Batman was cool as hell, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah.”

 

“That’s the only good costume I’ve seen all night,” a dark-haired boy said, pointing to a kid swinging on the playground swingset. Leo leaned over the railing, peering at it. It was a jersey of some kind, with a number on the front.

 

“Yo! Drew Brees! That’s my GOAT,” one boy said.

 

“Nuh-uh. Matthew Stafford, he’s so underrated,” another one said.

 

“If he’s underrated, why is he benched all the time?” the first boy countered.

 

“Why are we stuck on quarterbacks? The game hinges on the wide receiver.”

 

For Leo, the boys had switched tongues, speaking gibberish instead of English.

 

He tried to contribute at all, to ask a question, but they just spoke over him, over the music.

 

Completely unnoticed, Leo backed away and left the deck.

Once Leo was a block away, he finally let out the breath he was holding, shoulders slumping forward in defeat.

 

He glanced behind him. He couldn’t even see his house anymore. His parents and those girls had vanished.

 

Around him, costumed strangers walked from house to house in duos and trios and larger groups. The autumn evening was peppered with laughs and candy wrappers crinkling and creepy laughter from motion-activated, fancy halloween decorations.

 

And here was Leo, all alone.

 

All alone and looking stupid.

 

It made him angry, eyes burning. He made a bee-line for a park bench nestled in some bushes next to a playground. Shivering and breathing heavily, crouching behind the bench like some kind of creepy weirdo, Leo ripped the pink tule from his princess costume. He bunched it up in his hands and threw it into the trash can, minus a long strand of it that he fashioned into a kind of belt.

 

He ripped the front and back of the skirt portion of the dress, vertically down the middle. He folded the pieces of the fabric together and stuffed them into his socks.

 

He broke the sparkly pink spines off of the tiara until it was a jagged, crappy circlet. He pushed it down onto his forehead, his black hair puffing out around it.

 

He looked down at himself.

 

A princess had transformed into a prince. It was a dubiously Arabian costume, with wide pant legs and a cinched waistline. It could pass for a legitimate costume.

 

Just barely.

 

But it was good enough.

 

Alright. He felt a little more like himself again, the tightness in his chest fading away with each inhale and exhale.

 

He hopped out of the bush, glancing left and right to make sure no one had seen him. Once he was satisfied, he started walking farther into the neighborhood–and farther away from his parents.

 

He got lost pathetically easily, but he didn’t even care. The point was to be away from home long enough to fool his parents into thinking he was having fun. Getting lost was just a side perk.

 

The neighborhood streets curved pleasantly, lined with orange and red-leafed trees. But everything was so… identical, so uniform. The houses all had the same fake brick veneer and exhausted beige siding. The same two car garage with a cost-effective sedan out front.

 

Back home, Leo’s parents had lived in an apartment complex right next to the campus Leo’s mom worked at. Their neighbors had been from all over the world and all had crazy stories to tell about love and school and cities and war. Everyone’s difference brought them together.

 

Looking at all the other kids, Leo had never felt more distant from anyone else.

The Spice Girls looked up at Leo, their expressions unreadable beneath their butterfly hair clips and sparkly outfits.

 

“Hi?” Posh Spice said.

 

Leo shifted from foot to foot, feeling like bees had buzzed up into his costume. “I just moved in. Down the street,” he offered.

 

Sporty Spice perked up. “Oh! Where?”

 

Leo jerked a thumb behind him. His house sat on the spot where the coul-de-sac turned into a proper street. The yard was empty, but he knew his dad would work his green thumb soon.

 

All five of them glanced at the house. Something passed between them. Someone snickered.

 

At Leo’s confused look, Baby Spice took pity. “You live in the Parker house.”

 

“What’s the Parker house?”

 

“It’s where Genevieve Parker lived,” Ginger Spice gushed. “Now that was a crusty old bitch.”

 

They all laughed at Ginger Spice’s insult.

 

Leo didn’t know what to say. “Um. Cool.”

 

Silence again. Leo was drowning in it. Coming up for air, he spoke again. “Uh, my mom wanted me to introduce myself and hand out candy with you guys.”

 

None of them looked very enthusiastic about it, or at least, Leo thought so. “What’s your name?” Posh Spice asked.

 

Leo swallowed. Well. There that question was. “Leo,” he said.

 

“Oh. Cool,” Posh Spice said. “I’m Andy.”

 

“Bella.” Sporty Spice.

 

“Erin.” Ginger Spice.

 

“Opal.” Scary Spice. Her expression was particularly haughty.

 

“Sun Woo, but people just call me Sunny,” Baby Spice offered.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Leo said.

 

“Well, Leo, we don’t really have a sixth chair,” Posh Andy said. “So, like, sorry.”

 

“Yeah…” Ginger Erin said, trailing off into another awful silence. “Want some candy?”

 

“Sure.” Leo shuffled forward, then realized he didn’t have a pillowcase or plastic pumpkin to put it in. Lowering his eyes, he reached into the closest bowl and grabbed a handful of Reese’s Cups. He reached under his dress, putting them in his jeans pockets. They bulged ridiculously, crinkling as he moved around.

 

Leo was at a crossroads. The Spice Girls were all still staring at him. Should he stay? Should he go? What would his parents say if he came home just a few minutes later with his tail between his legs?

 

“So, I, uh–“

 

“Trick or treat!!”

 

A trio of particularly adorable elementary school-aged kids had approached the table while Leo was having his internal crisis. They were dressed up as the three blind mice.

 

“Oh my gosh!!” Ginger Erin exclaimed. “Aren’t you the cutest?”

 

All attention moved to the cute kids, and their pillowcases, which were immediately loaded with piles and piles of candy, much to their delight.

 

While the Spice Girls cooed and giggled at the Blind Mice, Leo shuffled away, slinking over to the next street corner and out of sight.

 

His parents were looking at him with hopeful expectations. Unable to let the silence continue any longer, Leo took the dress from his dad with a forced smile. “Thanks.”

 

His dad clapped him on the back. “Go out there and have fun,” he said.

 

“I just talked to the woman across the street, with the beautiful Elm tree,” Leo’s mom added. Her daughter and her friends are handing out candy to the kids at the end of the cul-de-sac!”

 

The enthusiasm practically vibrating through Leo’s mom was an order. If Leo didn’t go ham it up with those girls, he would crush his mom.

 

Leo gave them both a curt nod before slinking back up the stairs. In his sweaty palm, the cheap material of the gown itched.

 

It was like a horrible homework assignment worth a quarter of your grade. Leo changed clothes and put on the dress with a mechanical slowness, face devoid of expression. 

 

His parents tearfully bid him goodbye like it was prom night. No, that eventual nightmare wasn’t for another few months, thank god.

 

Once outside, the cold bit into Leo through the princess outfit. The tiara scratched at his scalp. More kids were out now, and Leo bristled whenever they looked his way.

 

Steeling himself, Leo squared his shoulders, stood up straight, and marched toward the gathering at the end of the coul-de-sac.

 

There was a folding table set out on the asphalt. It was covered in a table cloth with an orange and black spooky theme. On top of it, a few big baking bowls full of the best candy sat.

 

And, behind the table, in folding chairs, sat five teenage girls.

 

As Leo approached, his heart sank further. Their costumes were immaculate, and, worst of all, they matched.

 

Each of the five girls was a different Spice Girl. From left to right, there sat Ginger Spice, Posh Spice, Scary Spice, Sporty Spice, and Baby Spice. They were all white, except for Baby Spice, who was Asian.

 

Leo thought back to his parents’ hopeful expressions. Leo was a mixed kid to two hard working parents who’d faced income problems and even people having a problem with their interracial relationship. In the year 2004.

 

This neighborhood did not feel like home, and Leo didn’t think it ever would.

 

Still, Leo approached the table. As he walked up, all five of the girls looked up, their energetic conversation dwindling away.

 

Leo stopped a few feet away. Everything was silent, save for the breeze rustling the autumn trees and the occasional cry of “trick or treat!”

 

“Uh.” Leo swallowed. “Hi.”

Leo dropped the cardboard box onto the carpet of his bedroom with a heavy thwump. His arms and back protested from the labor, his calves begging not to have to march up and down the stairs another time.

 

There was a bed with a mattress in the center of the room, but it didn’t have any sheets on it to hide the weird stains that old mattresses had. Still, Leo flopped onto it, letting out a long sigh and looking up at the ceiling.

 

He didn’t want to be here.

 

“Leo!” His dad called out, voice muffled through the door. “Get down here!”

 

Okay, that wasn’t what Leo had in mind.

 

With a labored grunt, Leo sat upright, forcing his angsting, teenage body out of the room and down the stairs.

 

His mom and dad were standing in the entryway to the house with twin smiles on their faces. Stepfordian smiles.

 

Leo slowed as he reached the front hall, glancing warily between his parents. “Uh, what’s up?”

 

“Look!” His mom exclaimed. She gestured outside.

 

Leo leaned forward, looking out the screen door at the disturbingly normal American suburban scene. He looked back at his mom with a question on his face.

 

“Trick-or-treaters!” His mom said.

 

Leo looked again. Sure enough, even though the sun hadn’t set, some kids were already out, mostly the young ones toddling around in Pikachu costumes, holding hands with their parents.

 

“Cool,” Leo said.

 

“[DEADNAME]*, we know moving can be tough,” Leo’s dad said. Yeah, understatement. “So we want you to go out and have some fun.”

 

Leo’s dad pulled out a costume from behind his back. Leo had to bite his lip to stop from making a noise of disgust.

 

It was a princess costume, with royal purple velvet and a sheer, sparkly, pink decorative material spread all over it. It was girly and infantile and not Leo’s style.

 

*We wanted to respect Leo’s privacy and not use his birth name, which he dislikes.

Leo Castellano was not your regular boy. Not because he was a transgender boy–Leo had known his true identity his whole life. It was as normal to him as eating cereal for breakfast. He knew his pronouns were he and him and his. He knew who he was, even if other people didn’t.

No, Leo was not your regular boy because he was just plain weird. He knew that. His classmates had always made sure to remind him. He’d embraced it. If the alternative was being mind-numbingly boring along with everyone else, then he was perfectly comfortable being weird.

Being weird was awesome. Being weird meant you could chase frogs and watch old French movies and imagine crazy worlds, and no one could stop you.

For some reason, as Leo got older, his parents were less okay with the general weirdness. It was like the moment he entered high school, all those dreaded Parental Expectations exploded out of them at once in a miasma of pink confetti.

You see, Leo’s parents didn’t know Leo was trans. Leo’s parents still called him by the wrong name and used the wrong pronouns.

Which, to Leo’s horror, meant that, now that Leo was in high school, his parents expected him to be on the girl’s soccer team. Or ballet, if he preferred. But they wanted him in some group activity, something to get him some friends and into a decent school. Only problem was, those activities were all gendered out the wazoo.

Leo didn’t want to wear the women’s soccer uniform and only hang out with girls. Don’t get him wrong, girls were awesome–most of his weird friends were girls. But it was just a painful, constant reminder that other people didn’t see him how he was, that he wasn’t right in his skin.

It wasn’t fair.

And, just to make things worse, Leo’s parents had to move to another state just two months into Leo’s freshman year because of Leo’s mom’s job.

Just when he’d made a few friends. Just when he thought he might want to join photography club. All of it was gone.

Now, here Leo was, sulking in the back seat of their minivan, staring up at the new, cookie-cutter, two-story house that they had officially moved into. Today.

On Halloween.

Leo usually loved Halloween. He loved trick-or-treating with friends. You were never too old to get free candy in a terrifying costume. He loved watching scary movies and carving jack-o-lanterns.

Now, here he was, on Halloween, with school the next day. A new, unfamiliar school, where assignments had inevitably already built up. And boxes in the trunk for Leo to unpack. Boxes and boxes of sketches and books and toys that Leo’s parents said he was too old for.

Leo did not want to start life in Red Oaks.

He just wanted things to be the way they were before.

And, he wanted to be himself. His real self.