Greenware

*Please note - Chapter 1 takes place before the characters are 18, but nothing NSFW happens until chapter 4, and nothing 18+ happens until chapter 5. See below for Notes and World Mechanics.*

---

Chapter One: "Bloody Noses"

I first realized I was different when I was a senior in high school. I didn’t actually like sports, but I was thin and athletic and my dad said I needed to get involved in extracurriculars. I looked at the cheerleaders with the same disgust they had for me, and I didn’t feel like committing social suicide by joining the anime club. So sports it was.

I tried basketball when I was a freshman. It was a disaster. My dad liked to referee in his spare time, so he knew it best, wanting to get involved in my games, but I was just terrible at it. I couldn’t free throw for shit, I always forgot to pass the ball, and one time I shot for the wrong hoop because I forgot we switched at halftime. Needless to say, I didn’t make the team.

Baseball was my first choice, and for one reason only: Hitting things with a bat felt great. Sure there’s other sports heroes, but I don’t think many come close to the Babe. Maybe I’ve watched the Sandlot too many times, but seeing a ball go into the stratosphere because you smacked the shit out of it felt gratifying. That was how I joined the Fairwell Martens. Our shared satisfaction of hearing the bat crack and sprinting our way to a win.

Sophomore year was fun until two things happened to me. I got boobs.

Don’t get me wrong, boobs are great. But attention from every single person you happen to walk past? And I don’t just mean getting noticed, I mean getting stared at from down the hallway. You expect it from teenage boys, but the teachers weren’t immune to it either. I couldn’t stand the attention from the other girls though. Especially the ones on my team.

It wasn’t like I expected. It wasn’t all ‘oh my god, Cassie, your titties are humongous!’ or ‘wow, you’re so hot, we should totally be friends.’ It wasn’t playful or fun at all. It was like my chest was suddenly offensive, like a dirty word. How dare I have breasts. It’s not my fault their boyfriends ogled me. I even made the effort to cover up, but it didn’t matter. It was like all the friends I’d made during freshman year evaporated the second I walked in as a sophomore. I didn’t sign up for tryouts that year.

Not every girl treated me like a villain, though. There was Kat. She was new, but people didn’t like her either. For different reasons than me. She wasn’t just new to the school, she was new to being a girl. She had just started her transition at the end of freshman year, and… God, I loved her enthusiasm, but she didn’t know the first thing about being a girl. I don’t know what made me think I did, but she and I bonded over being exactly what no one thought we should be. She had sandy blonde hair, always smelling like the ocean. She was tall, too, taller than me anyway.

She wasn’t on the baseball team. She was an overachiever. She’d had fantastic grades and had earned a free period out of class. Any other kid would have skipped for that hour, gone to the mall or something. But no, Kat just had to be perfect. She volunteered in the school office. That was how we met. She’d spend that hour bringing things to kids in their classrooms, ferrying forgotten lunches or delivering mail for teachers.

I had gym that period. We had just gotten done dressing out, and god I hated that. I used to take as much time as possible so everyone would leave before I had to take my shirt off. I never showered there. I was finally alone, and I was rushing so I wouldn’t be late to my next class, so I didn’t bother to lock the door. Usually Kat would just leave notes in our lockers, but I was out in the open, exposed. At least she had the sense to turn around after getting an eyeful.

“I’m so sorry!” she squealed. Her voice cracked when she talked back then. “I didn’t see anything!”

“What the hell, man!?” I yelled, clutching at myself.

“Sorry! Oh fuck, oh shit.”

“Are you even allowed to be in here?”

She held up her hand, waving a post it note in the air. Mint green, our school color.

“I’m supposed to deliver this to Coach Brand!”

She stood there. I stood there. We were both shivering. I was just cold, but she seemed terrified of me. I didn’t know what kind of reputation I had at the time. Found out later that other girls told their boyfriends that I was a bitch, and they spread plenty of rumors. She probably thought I was going to rip her a new one.

“Fine, give it here.” She tilted her head a bit, and then held her arm out behind her awkwardly, holding the note for me to take. Her fingernails were short, covered in cracked black polish. I snatched it out of her hand, and she almost bolted away from me.

“Thank you. Sorry.”

I thought about calling out to her, but she wouldn’t have heard me.

I scared her a couple of days after that. We had a few classes together, but we didn’t actually interact at all until lunch one day. I was wearing clothes that were too warm for inside. The district was expecting a cold front, but it didn’t materialize, so we were stuck with remotely controlled heaters that were all turned too far up.

My skin was just barely damp from sweat, and it was making me uncomfortable. I wasn’t going to take off my top and risk drawing anyone’s ire. Or wayward looks from horny boys. I was in a rush to get out of the building, planning on eating by myself on the patio, but I managed to find Kat by accident instead. The patio doors get jammed sometimes, so I had to push it open really hard, and it wasn’t until I saw red pouring from her nose that I realized what I’d done.

“Oh my god,” I muttered. I’d dropped my lunch on the ground in surprise, but ignored it. Kat was on her knees, too startled and in shock to say anything. “Are you alright?” She drew a breath but coughed before she could say anything. A spray of blood ran out of her nose and dotted me and my sweater. She nodded in response to my question, though, and only then did she realize it was me. She looked anxious, like it was her fault. Like interrupting my day was worse than a serious injury.

“I’ll get the nurse,” she said, her words bubbling beneath the red trail, and tried to walk away. I grabbed her hand to stop her. I remember thinking her skin was really soft.

“Hey!” I said, and she clammed up. “It’s my fault. Let me take you to the nurse’s office.” She could only nod.

When we got to Ms. Rocha’s office, I told her what had happened. She told us to sit down and she’d look us both over. “Take off that bloody shirt,” she pointed at Kat. She wore a simple graphic tee, a band I’d never heard of. It was dark in color, so the blood almost looked like part of its design. I thought it looked cool. She lifted it up over her shoulders, being careful not to press up against her face as it passed. “You too.” Nurse Rocha pointed at me, and I looked down to myself. I hadn’t realized it, but as we’d walked, Kat’s blood covered hands had painted my sweater with crimson. It didn’t look like a design on me.

On the bright side, I was finally able to cool down. On the less bright side, Kat and I sat opposite each other, both painfully aware of the fact that we were both topless. I don’t think Nurse Rocha knew about her transition, because she said something about how it wasn’t anything the three of us hadn’t seen before. I knew better. If you didn’t know she was trans, you might think Kat was just a late bloomer. She wore a trainer, and I’m pretty sure she stuffed it, but she was practically flat. Practically.

It was early, but hormones had finally started to kick in for her, and I could see the faint beginnings of curves pushing out from her own chest. I remember wishing that we could have swapped. Even though I wasn’t the happiest with my body, I knew Kat would have been right at home under my skin.

She, on the other hand, refused to make eye contact with me the whole time. Not for lack of trying. Her eyes kept darting between my chest and the floor; they never made it up to my face. I laughed softly, and pretended not to notice.

Nurse Rocha made sure Kat wasn’t concussed, and she put our bloody clothes in ziplock baggies to take home. The lost and found was where we got clothes to see out the day. Kat took a gray top that was three sizes too big for her. I could tell she wasn’t happy about having to look less femme. So I leveled the playing field. I fished out the dude-iest thing I could see: a grungy shirt that still smelled like weed. I lowered it over my head, pulling it taut across my chest. Despite being baggy, it still hugged me well, and it wasn’t the most comfortable fit.

“At least you look better than me.” I said, smirking at her. She shook her head.

“You don’t have to make fun of me.”

I frowned. “I’m being for real.” She scoffed, but finally met my eyes. I wish she knew how pretty she was, even back then. “Fine,” I turned around, lifting up my shirt. “Help me.”

She stared at the clasp of my bra, wondering if she should or not. “Uh.”

“This shirt is super uncomfortable, and I’m not going to spend the rest of the day with my chest in a compressor. Come on, help me out.”

I felt her fingertips lightly on my shoulder blades as she pulled on the elastic. I could hear her trying not to breathe too hard, dangerously aware of her proximity to me. The wire around my ribcage finally released, and I felt gravity pulling me down again. The shirt loosened just a bit, and I could finally wrench my arms out of the straps.

“Ugh, thank you.”

I turned to face her, tugging up my jeans by the belt loops, and feeling my chest bounce under the scratchy fabric. Kat stood there, holding out the bra. I noticed her cracked nails again as I took my undergarment back. I could see flecks of dried blood stuck between what remained of the polish.

“What kind of nail polish do you use?” I asked, unprompted. It was just enough cognitive dissonance that she looked away from my tits for a second.

“Uh. Some stuff my mom had lying around.” I shook my head.

“God, it must be old. After a while it separates in the bottle.”

“Yeah, probably that’s what happened.”

“I have some in my locker that you can borrow,” I offered with a shrug. “Meet me after last bell?” She didn’t respond so I continued. “218. Second floor, near the auditorium.”

Kat finally nodded. “Yeah, ok.”

I didn’t know the reason then, but I spent the last hour of class tapping my heel against my chair, eager to spring up from my desk as soon as the bell chimed. I got to my locker in thirty seconds, then spent the next thirty making sure I was leaning up against it as nonchalantly as I could. Kat wasn’t my type, but something in the back of my mind was curious about her. I remembered the boy she used to be, and I’ll admit, I had a brief crush for one or two weeks in freshman year. This was different.

“Cassie?” She startled me, coming from the direction of the hallway I wasn’t facing. I played it off.

“Hey, Kat.” I realized I’d never spoken her name out loud before. “Here.” I flicked the dial of my lock to each number of the combination, and yanked the metal bolt out of its home. The green painted metal squealed on its hinges as it opened. “Somewhere…” I dug into the locker. Books that needed to be returned to the library. An old softball jersey. A bunch of pencils and sticky notes. But no nail polish.

“Huh,” I muttered. It was my turn to stammer. “I swore I had something here.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I appreciate the offer, at least.” I could hear the disappointment in her voice, and it killed me. I reached back into my locker, snagging the jersey and shoving it in her hands.

“Here,” I said. “This would look way better on you.” She hesitated, but I could see her eyes brighten just a bit. “Plus it doesn’t smell as musty.”

She almost started to take off the gray shirt, before realizing we were still in a crowded hallway. I nodded my head towards a nearby bathroom, closing my locker behind me as I left. Kat followed me like a puppy, unsure of what to do next.

“Go on. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” I stood staunchly outside the heavy green door, pretending to be a watchman. She peered inside.

“What if there’s somebody in there already?” She was waiting for permission. It made me angry that no one had given it to her before.

“It’s the girl’s room.” I spoke the fact out loud, giving it weight. “Are you a girl?”

I didn’t expect her to hesitate, but after a moment she nodded. I responded with a smile.

“Then who cares?”

A small grunt of anxiety escaped her lips, but she pulled open the door and headed inside, clutching my crumpled jersey in her fist. I leaned back against the door, sealing it shut and protecting the room from trespassers. After a few seconds I heard a stall door echo as it was closed and locked. The wheels were already turning in my head, not even conscious thought but instinct. She needed someone to help her, and I thought that someone was me.

When Kat came back, she carried herself differently. She peeked out of the door before exiting, the wadded up shirt under her arm. I could see the tiniest bit of confidence in her, shoulders back, chin slightly higher. “Thanks.” It barely came out as a whisper. “I owe you.”

“You can pay me back tonight,” I said, only vaguely processing the offer as I made it. “Bring that to my house later, like seven.” Shock covered her face. She acted like I’d called her a slur. “I’ll do up your nails.”

That sweetened the deal more than I expected it to. A look I hadn’t seen on her materialized. Determination. She nodded. “Okay.”

Details were sketchy after that. Sure, I remember everything, but this isn’t the place for naive, fumbly romance. Kat opened up tremendously. She became my best friend, despite clashing with other circles I ran in. The Venn diagram of our respective groups didn’t intersect so much as orbit endlessly. But she was mine. And she made me different. Better.

We were only friends for a year and a half. The summer before senior year was just beginning. My mom was harassing me about colleges. My dad wanted me to start a summer job. He joked that he wanted me to move out after graduating, but I think he really just wanted to make sure I’d be self sufficient. Looking back, it's kind of funny to me that he ever worried.

Kat and I weren’t inseparable or anything, but our friendship was different than others. More intimate. Synergized. And yet I didn’t see this coming.