Chp 6
1098 Words
Willow POV
The cold doesn’t feel as sharp anymore, maybe it’s because I’m moving or it's because I finally am going to do something that I love, that is hockey!!. My bag rests against my shoulder as I walk down the crowded street, snow crunching softly beneath my shoes. Christmas lights hang above, glowing warm against the grey sky, and people pass by with bags, laughter, and lives that seem… uncomplicated.
I keep my head down, hood up.
I am Not hiding, I am Just… used to it.
Suddenly my phone vibrates and I pull it out, already knowing who it is.
Ethan.
‘Before you come, get boy clothes Proper ones.’ his texts says
‘T-shirts. Pants. Don’t mess this up.’
I stare at the message.
“Wow,” I mutter under my breath. “Good morning to you too.” I text him back.
Another message comes in instantly.
‘I’m serious, Willow’.
I roll my eyes, ‘Relax. I’ve been pretending my whole life’.
I shove the phone back into my pocket, exhaling slowly.
Clothes.
Right.
I stop walking and I think for a second, then I pull my phone out again. There are only two people I’d call right now. The only two who have never made me feel like I don’t belong.
I type quickly, ‘I need you guys. Urgently.’ in our group chat, it's the only three of us in the chat. Then replies come almost instantly.
‘We’re coming’. Stef texts back
‘Location?’ she adds.
A small smile slips through before I can stop it. Some things don’t change, they are always ready to meet me when I need them. They are my loyal friends whom I trust and whom I can call family. They are aware of my family situation as well and they understand me well.
The store is warm when I step inside, filled with the soft hum of music and the scent of new fabric. Rows of clothes stretch endlessly, neatly arranged, organized in a way my life has never been. I move toward the back, fingers brushing lightly over racks of oversized t-shirts and hoodies.
“Willow!” I turn after hearing my name and the next second, I’m pulled into a hug.
“God, you look like you just fought someone,” Sarha says, squeezing me tighter than necessary.
“I might have,” I mumble into her shoulder.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes narrowing.
“You did, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly,” I say.
“Define not exactly,” Stef cuts in, stepping closer with a grin that already says she’s enjoying this.
I exhale, “Okay, I might’ve crashed into someone.”
They both go quiet.
“…With what?” they expression changes, they were curious to know what happened.
“My bicycle,” I say and then they burst out laughing.
“Of course you did,” Stef says, shaking her head. “Out of all the dramatic things you could do, you choose vehicular assault.”
“It wasn't an assault,” I defended. “It was… accidental impact.”
“That’s worse,” Sarah says between laughs.
I cross my arms, trying and failing not to smile. “I broke his expensive bottles.”
They pause.
“How expensive?”
“Very.”
They stare at me.
“…You’re in danger,” one of them concludes.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I got that feeling too.”
They laugh again, and for a moment—
just a moment everything feels… normal.
“So,” Sarah says, nudging my shoulder lightly, “why the emergency call?”
I glance around the store and then back at them.
“I need help picking boy clothes.”
Silence.
“…I’m sorry, what?” Sarah says with a confused look on her face.
“T-shirts. Pants. Stuff that makes me look like a guy.”
They blink, once and then twice. They were in shock because they knew that I wore dresses, just tshirts but they never knew that I wanted to look like a guy.
“…Willow,” one of them says slowly, “what are you planning?”
I take a deep breath before telling them, and with a smile on my face and excitement in my voice I tell them.
“I’m joining a hockey team,” I say finally.
“That’s not the shocking part,” Sarah says as she knows my dream. “Continue.”
“As a boy.”
This time both of them actually freeze.
“…You’re serious,” one of them says.
“Yes.”
A long pause while they were processing the information I just gave them.
“…I love it.” Sarah says with an excitement in her voice and her eyes brighten.
I blink, I thought they would try to convince me not to do this but they are actually excited.
“You what?”, i say with a confused look on my face.
“It’s insane,” she grins. “Which means it’s perfect for you.”
Stef sighs, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips too.
“You’re going to get yourself into trouble.” she said with a concerned look on her face.
“Already did,” I mutter.
They exchange a look and then turn back to me.
“Fine,” one of them says, clapping her hands once. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”
The next hour passed faster than I expected.
Clothes pile up in my arms, oversized t-shirts, darker colors, looser fits. Jackets that hide shape. Pants that don’t cling.
They adjust everything.
Critique everything.
“No, this one makes you look too… alive.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Like people would notice you. We don’t want that.”
“Wow,” I deadpan. “Love the support.”
“You know what I mean.”
I do and for once, I don’t mind it, at some point, I catch my reflection in the mirror.
Short hair. Hood. Loose clothes.
Different.
Not completely unrecognizable, but close enough.
“…This might actually work,” one of them murmurs.
I hold my own gaze for a second longer.
Not Willow.
Not completely.
Something else.
Something new.
“Hey,” Sarah nudges me lightly. “You okay?”
I blink, pulling myself back.
“Yeah,” I say, and this time I mean it because for the first time in a long time,
I’m not just surviving, I’m choosing.
- Writer
