Static

Wyatt Donnelly had never felt more comfortable in her own skin.

By the time lunch rolled around, she'd already strutted through four classes in her heels and hadn't once twisted an ankle. That alone felt like a miracle. The boys had nodded at her in greeting, a few clapped her on the back, and Coach Dunlop, passing in the hallway, had even said, "Nice form, Donnelly. Keep it up."

She still wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, whether it was a comment on her posture or her posterior, but she took it as a compliment and thanked him with a toothy grin.

Her world had been completely transformed, and not because she had somehow become a woman the previous evening, but because she had found confidence, acceptance, and the ability to like herself. Gone was the self-sabotage that had been her default, talking herself out of opportunities, out of happiness, at every turn. She used to walk through the school hallways expecting rejection with every glance. Now she couldn't care less what people thought of her. She was incredible! She knew it. She believed it. Other people could believe whatever they wanted. It no longer impacted how she saw herself.

Now, standing in line for cafeteria pizza, she could feel eyes on her. Not the kind of eyes that used to ridicule her, nor the kind that would objectify her new self. There were no catcalls, no smirks, no whispered jokes about the micro-mini leather skirt that barely counted as clothing. To everyone around her, she was just Wyatt: same guy as last week, just wearing a crop top that could double as a hand towel. But she was also more than that. She was, in the eyes of observers, good enough.

She leaned against the counter, tilting her head at a classmate. "Hey, Jeff," she said, giving a playful little wave.

Jeff, star of the basketball team, grinned. "Yo, Wyatt! Cool shoes, man."

Wyatt looked down at her high heels. "You think so?"

"Totally," Jeff said, nodding seriously. "Kinda bold, though. Not everyone could pull off that masculine energy."

Wyatt blinked her long mascara heavy lashes. "Masculine?"

"Yeah, dude. That's power dressing. Good for you."

Wyatt couldn't help herself — she laughed. Loudly. "Yeah, okay. Masculine. Sure thing."

Jeff gave her a thumbs-up and moved along with his tray, leaving her giggling to herself.

She spotted Gary across the cafeteria instantly. Even in a crowd of two hundred teenagers, he stood out like a spotlight in a blackout. The yellow sundress wasn't helping. He was sitting alone, fidgeting with the hem, trying to hide his legs under the table.

She grabbed a slice of pizza and glided over, balancing perfectly in her heels like she was born to do it.

"Hey, sunshine," she said, dropping her tray across from him.

Gary looked up, cheeks pink. "Don't."

Wyatt sat, crossing her legs. "What? You don't like your new look? It's very… vintage department store mannequin."

"I hate it," Gary said flatly. "My mom threw away the clothes I was wearing yesterday. Said they were indecent."

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. "Jeans were indecent?"

"She said I could wear whatever 'alternative lifestyle' I want when I move out. But in her house, I have to dress like a 'proper gentleman.' All I have left to wear are the clothes that you saw in my closet last night! This was the least... adventurous."

Wyatt snorted, nearly **** on her pizza. "That's… wow."

Gary groaned. "She even made me put on lip gloss. She said my lips looked dry."

Wyatt leaned forward on her elbows, chin resting on her hands. "You know, it actually brings out your eyes."

He glared. "Not funny."

"Little funny."

"Not. Funny." Gary paused, then spoke quietly. "So your closet, too? That's a different outfit from last night."

Wyatt bit her lip, smirking. "Sort of. I got home and found my closet totally the same, but everything I put on transforms to something like this. You should have seen my swim trunks!"

Gary looked down, fiddling with the hem of his dress again. "Oh my God."

"But, like, everyone's treating me like it's normal! I've got these huge tits, and guys are acting like I'm regular Wyatt," she pursed her puffy lips in thought. "No, better. They treat me like I'm regular Wyatt, but they like me!"

"Same, sort of. Nobody's said anything all day. Not one person. I'm walking around in a dress, Wyatt, and people just say things like, 'Nice weather, huh?' or 'Did you finish the chemistry assignment?' It's like they can't even see it. It feels like we're living in some sort of parody of our life."

"Feels that way," Wyatt said, smiling. "Except it’s real. And great! I can feel everything. My reflexes, my energy, my—" she stopped, catching herself before she said something too revealing. "It's just different. Better."

Gary tilted his head. "You're acting different too."

Wyatt blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Flirty. Confident. You called me 'sunshine.' When you were getting food, you just winked at Jeff."

Wyatt blinked again, confused. "Did I?"

"Yes. I could see it from here."

"Well…" She smiled faintly, sitting up straight and thrusting out her chest in pride. "Maybe I just feel good for once."

Gary sighed, rubbing his temples. "I wish I did."

They sat in silence for a moment, the cafeteria noise blurring around them. Students came and went, laughing, eating, bumping trays. The smell of ketchup and fryer oil hung in the air.

Wyatt reached across the table and put her hand on Gary's. "Hey. We'll figure it out. We always do. We'll order the computer parts and fix things."

Gary looked up, startled.

The moment her skin touched his, something happened.

A faint crackle — not loud, but enough to make them both flinch. The kind of electric pop that comes right before a storm.

Wyatt's breath caught.

Gary's eyes widened.

They both pulled back at the same time, shaking their hands like they'd just touched a live wire.

"Static," Gary said quickly.

"Yeah," Wyatt said softly. "Static."

But it wasn't.

And they both knew it.