Compared to last-year me, I don't think I look much different. Last-year me, however, was gross. Long, stringy hair that was always dyed some obscure color. (What was I ever thinking dying my hair green? GREEN!) Chubby cheeks that chipmunks would be jealous of (not to mention thighs to match), and a DD cup size that were a big MESS when I did anything over a slow walk. Besides throwing on a chest binder (which solved the boob problem for an average of eight hours a day) and cutting my hair (and dying it a reasonable brown), not much about me changed. I'm still Josie, the grossest human alive, but I'm also Declan, a less-gross human. I really didn't think I looked that much different.

My mother always tended to disagree with me, she did with everything. She would tell me that I looked so handsome, and nothing like my Josie-counterpart. Even though she disagrees with me a lot, she's really chill about a lot of stuff. When I came out to her, telling her that I was transgender in the middle of a car on a family trip to South Dakota, the only thing she was mad at was that I didn't tell her when we were around civilization. I can remember her exact words: "God damn it, Josie! Now you have to wear girl stuff until we get out of the god-forsaken state of sunflowers. We're fifty miles away from the closest store and I am not turning this fucking car around."

Needless to say, my mom's pretty cool.

We have this weird tradition in the morning on the first day of school, she and I will argue about what I would wear. I had gone through a button-up plaid shirt ("You look like a lesbian. You're not a lesbian, are you?"), a band tee ("Wearing that will make you seem like a deadbeat goth kid. I don't care that the shirt is for fricken' Owl City."), and I had finally gotten to an emerald-green sweater and jeans when she finally agreed. At this point, I had approximately thirteen minutes to get ready and on the bus. Shoving a Pop-tart into my face and running out the door with a backpack as heavy as sixteen bowling balls, I hoped to god that I would find my bus stop with my horrible sense of direction.

When I reached it, I started mentally preparing myself for mis-gendering galore. I really wasn't ready for the "she's" and "her's" and the "Josie's". The only two people who currently knew of my gender was my mother and my best friend, a girl named Tori. Tori is a transgirl. We've been friends since we were little, and ever since she was six we've known she was trans. She always used to play with my dolls and stuff, and when given the chance she would use a female character in any video game we played. Sadly, Tori doesn't live near me, therefore we ride different buses. I was ready for hell on earth that was school.

When the bus pulled up to the stop, swinging open it's doors, I took a deep breath in preparation. I thought it was going to be the same bus driver I've had for the past six years, but I was pleasantly surprised to see an older guy instead. The driver of the yellow machine of doom looked at me, back at his book, and then back at me. He had a confused look written all over his face.

This guy had to be at least sixty years old. His entire demeanor screamed that he had arthritis in at least twelve places, and he had thick glasses that made me slightly worry about his eyesight. I have never seen this man before, but when his wrinkly, old-person face looked towards me with confusion, I had to say something. It was a pity thing. "Hello?" I said, forcibly lowering my voice to sound vaguely masculine. "Is something wrong?"

The bus driver looked at me. "Are you...Josie?" He asked, his voice raspy and low, like you would expect and old person's to be.

I gulped. Should I lie? Should I just say yes? "Uh...Technically yes, but I'm called Declan by everyone else."

The man blinked, shifted his glasses, and murmured some inaudible words. He took a pen and scribbled something down. "Alright, Declan...climb aboard!"

I internally screamed with happiness as I climbed onto the bus and sat down in a seat a couple sections away from the driver. Thank god this guy believed me, and didn't ask if Josie was a girl's name or anything.

Everything was smooth for a while, nobody talked to me as I stared out the window of the bus, watching houses and people blur placed on this busy morning. All was well until I heard the dreaded words of any introvert.

"Hi, the bus is full, can I sit here?"

I turned to look at the source of the voice. Standing beside the seat was a relatively short kid with black-rimmed glasses, like the 3D glasses you get at the movies. They had short, emo-styled ginger hair and freckles splashed across their face and nose. Their eyes were a nice, warm shade of brown. They were wearing a gray jacket and had on a black shirt with a Pokeball from Pokemon on it. They seemed nice, and for the life of me they were the most androgynous kid I have ever seen. I'm not one to assume gender or think it matters in any way, so I didn't question. They looked kind of awkward. I couldn't leave them hanging, however much I disliked people sitting next to me on buses.

"Uh, sure." I said, moving my bag so they could sit down.

They sat and looked towards me. "Thanks." The conversation was left at that.

I couldn't help but pay attention to this ginger stranger. They had produced a DS from their pocket and were playing...Pokémon. Figures. I watched them play for a minute, they didn't notice at all. I went back to looking out the window.

Another ten minutes passed and the bus driver opened the door. We had arrived.

I climbed off the bus and immediately went towards the entrance of school. The androgynous Pokémon kid had disappeared at some point. I pulled out my schedule from the pocket of my jeans, and began wondering around to find my class. I couldn't see much of the school; it was packed to the brim with hormone-packed teenagers who were all at least 5'10". Me, being 5'4", was intimidated. I squeezed past couples sucking face and the obvious posses: The cheerleaders, the band geeks, the nerds, etc..., when I heard someone say something behind me.

"Woah, who's that cute boy there?"

"Oh my god, he's cuter than Devon..."

"He is so not cuter than Devon!"

"Yes he is. He's cuter than any boy I've ever met."

"He could be the cutest boy in the school!"