Band Story Index

The first time the story was mentioned when I made a post about the fact that I had a bunch of, completely unwritten, stories in my head (to the point that a new one coming to me produces the thought, "Another one?") in which a transfemale lesbian character transitions and gains acceptance.

In that post, I described this story thus:

it's basically Twilight if you replace, "Vampires" with "female musicians," and "abusive" with "supportive"

So, you know, wish fulfillment fantasy (pastime, not genre) about a depressed girl meeting these people who seem above her, being accepted by them, and becoming one of them.  Girl happens to be a transgirl, hence "female musicians" instead of just "musicians".  Transitioning to living as an openly female person is part of the not-vampirification process.

So far I have written:

The Beginning - Main character, Jesse, meets the band while in a very vulnerable state (Content note: starts with transphobia and betrayal)

A scene from the early middle - Isa tries to convince Jesse to learn at least one instrument in her life.

A scene from the very late middle - Insecurities and whatnot eventually leading to a consent scene.

Fragment of the scene where the middle officially ends - Very little here, end of the final concert before Jesse and the band part ways (Jesse is returning to university while the band stays on tour.)

And that's it so far.

-

[Original Work Index]

Random jottings

I rounded out sad day yesterday with sick day.  I think what happened is that I dealt with the need to eat without also dealing with the fact that I dehydrated and my body rebelled like whoa.  Woke up today and felt fine at first, but feeling sick slowly reared its head again.

Except I'm pretty sure, not completely but close, that it's not a hydration thing today.  So still not good for writing.

Regardless even if I can't write, I don't want everything here to be all, "Woe is me."  It especially since people have chipped in to help and now instead of needing $2,000ish that I don't have it's more like $1,500ish and, while that still feels pretty daunting to me, I'm very grateful to help and having more posts about things sucking doesn't seem the best way to demonstrate that gratitude.

So, random scraps of things:

* * *

From future installments of Ash:

El wasn't letting it go, "How many more hints does the universe have to drop Cinderella?"

Ash snorted.  "I am not Cinderella,"

"Then why were you cleaning out the hearth?" El asked.

"Because I got stuck with all of the chores for a month and somehow 'cleaning the fireplace' became a chore instead of 'that thing we never even consider doing,'" Ash said.  Do you want me to list the ways that this is not Cinderella?"

"Oh, yes," El said. "Please do."

"My dad is still alive," Ash said.

"You said it yourself, that relationship is dead," El said.  "And it dying coincided with..."

"I'll grant you the wicked stepmother," Ash said, slightly angrily.  This was mostly fun-bickering, but some memories were best not relived.  "There's no prince charming."

"I told you already," El said, as if this were completely obvious, "Zenia will be there."

Ash shrugged, El smiled.  A point to El.

"If I'm Cinderella," Ash said, "then that would make you the evil ugly stepsisters.  You're not evil, you're not ugly, and you're not plural," Ash said, counting the three points on her fingers,

"Well maybe the production can't support a full cast," El said, "Budget restrictions, a lack of availible talent, whatever, and so they combined the characters of the step sisters with the fairy godmother."

"Because that makes so much sense," Ash said.

El just smiled.

"Just because you're in the drama club doesn't mean everything's a play," Ash said.  "Nor does it mean you should look at the world as if that were true."

"But," El countered, "All the world is a stage."

"No one even performs that play," Ash said, "but speaking of Shakespeare, remind me which one the masquerade ball is in?"

El didn't respond to that one.

Ash knew she had, if not a winning one, at least a decent argument, "There's no masquerade ball in Cinderella, but in the play where there is one... well, remind me.  How did Romeo and Juliet turn out?"

"We are not in a generational blood-feud with Zenia's family," El said.

"Neither are we in the mythical land of the Middleish Ages in which the only surefire route out of poverty and oppression was to become a monarch-spouse to a monarch who is a decent human being."

"Exactly!" El said. "Exactly..." and then she didn't say anything.

"You just wanted to so say, 'exactly' so it would seem like I was making your argument for you," Ash said.  "Didn't you?"

"No, of course not," El said, not even trying to hide the fact that she was lying.  "I merely meant bringing Cinderella into a modern day setting necessitates certain changes.  We make them all the time when we edit or update a play.

"The most notable one here being that, while it is believable that a prince might not recognize all of his subjects and thus have to resort to something as bullshit as testing shoe size, that doesn't work for two students in the same high school so it only makes sense if--"

"Just give up on this one, El" Ash said.  "You're tangling yourself in--"

"I deal with knots the Alexandrine way, thank you very much," El said, though she was visibly relieved to be out of that explanation.  She didn't admit to that, of course, she said, "Besides, how do you know that my recognition of this as a total Cinderella situation--"

"Which it isn't," Ash said.

"is because I'm in the drama club?" El said.  "Did you ever consider that maybe I took a class on Chinese folklore and that's what allowed me to see the obvious parallels?"

"Did you?" Ash asked.

"No," El said, "but--"

"And how do you know that Cinderella has roots in Chinese folklore?" Ash asked.

El gave an impish grin.  "Drama club."

"I rest my case," Ash said.

"You may have won today," El said, "but it'll be overturned on appeal!"

Ash laughed.  "You're such a doof,"

"The only reason I can't refute that," El said in a completely serious tone, "is because neither one of us knows what a doof is."

Then they both laughed.

* * *

Jacob, last seen in this though I think I've aged him down since then and am considering making his boss female:

Dramatic moment: "Release the mongeese!"

Nothing happens.  Into radio, "Yes I know that's not the proper plural ... because mongeese sounds like a million times better.  ... Look, there are heroes here trying to destroy our work and possibly blow up our home, so I really don't think ... fine."

Dramatic Moment: "Release the mongooses!"

* * *

Mongeese scattered, security forces routed, everything falling apart

"I told myself I would never do this, but you leave me no choice," *Jacob points to a place behind the heroes* "Monkey Ninjas!  Attack!"

The highly honed reflexes of the heroes had them spun around and in defensive positions in the blink of an eye.

Boss said, "I didn't know we had--" before Jacob grabbed boss by wrist and ran for the bolt hole, hitting the self destruct button on the way out.

There were no monkey ninjas.

* * *

(months later)

"Release the octopi!" pause "We talked about this." pause "Look, we really don't have time for..." *sighs* "Release the octopodes!"

* * *

(the next year)

"Monkey Ninjas!  Attack!"

The heroes weren't distracted, which allowed the monkey ninjas to take them completely by surprise.  Once safely clear of the blast radius Jacob stopped, caught his breath, and looked at the boss.  "I love that trick," he said, "but it only works twice."

* * *

[the band story]

"Come on, we go our separate ways tonight." *pause* "I know, but when are you going to get another chance to play live in concert?  Come on, give it a chance.  You pick the song, I'll help you hit-"

"Isa, your mic is still on," Angela said.

"Oh shi--" and Isa turned the offending microphone off.

Angela looked out and saw a lot of confused fans in the audience.  The concert was over, after all.

When Angela heard notes she knew by heart coming over the speakers, in the unmistakable sound of Isa's glass armonica, she decided that maybe the concert wasn't over.  Even though they'd never preformed this song before.

When the time came, she started to sing, "Now the seats are all empty // Let the roadies take the stage // Pack it up and tear it down..."

Cassy and Kaki, who had been packing things up because they didn't actually have roadies, came running back on stage, Kaki actually vaulted over ... something or other, to get back by her mic and ready to play.

* * *

From "The Princess Story"

---

Actually this is the part where I get distracted for several hours.

---

"Ok, so," Melitta said, "we have no money, no supplies, no identification, and people who are presumably trying to kill us in the general vicinity.  Plus, if anyone hears me speak they'll assume I'm a spy or worse."

"Pretty much," Lara said as she carefully rolled the wounded carpet.

"Any ideas on what to do now?" Melitta asked, fairly sure she didn't want to hear the answer.

"Get food," Lara said, putting the carpet into its case.

"No money," Melitta repeated.

"I know that, now let's get food," Lara said, standing up with the case strapped to her back, "the market's this way."

* * *

Melitta picked up a karaba, and looked it over.  It was a twisted tuber that looked more or less like any any other karaba.  She'd picked it, though, because it showcased a problem that all of the karaba at the stand had, only moreso: it was too white.

"I'm not impressed," Melitta said to Lara, showing her the karaba.

"What would an Eray know--" the merchant said.

"They royal kitchens employ people from all regions," Lara said, "and you would do well to respect those who work in them if you wish to maintain your contract."

Melitta wasn't sure this ploy would work, but there was a sudden change in the merchant's demeanor.

"I was just taking this one out," Lara said, "because some of the newer staff have been buying ... substandard," Lara said the word like it was some particularly hideous and unmentionable disease, "karabas of late."

"Certainly not from me," the merchant said.  "I grow the finest karabas in the islands.  I only bring the best to market, the rest can be given to livestock."

Melitta raised an eyebrow and showed the karaba to Lara again.

Lara took it, looked at it, and then the others in the merchant's offerings.

"Honestly," Lara said, "this was merely meant to be a trip to train this one," she gestured to Melitta, "but I'm strongly considering recommending that the kitchens look to other vendors if these are your best."

"It's been a hard season for karabas," the merchant said.  "I can't control the weather."

"Perhaps," Lara said, "you might show us evidence of what you can control.  If you've tilled your soil properly, it should be visible in the state of your," and then Lara started a list of a dozen crops, each of which was to demonstrate the merchant's supposedly exemplary cultivation practices.

The merchant gave them all of the requested food.  For free.

When they'd taken their spoils to a secluded spot on the island's coast where they could eat, Melitta finally asked, "How did that even work?"

"Who supplies food ingredients to the royal kitchens is a closely guarded secret," Lara said, "to reduce the chance of would-be assassins poisoning it."

"It can't be guarded well enough that just mentioning a contract with the kitchens automatically means you must work there," Melitta said.

"No, but it raises the possibility," Lara said. "As does the fact that I have the accent of the royal court."

"Whatever, I'm just glad we managed to get juice-fruit out of the deal," Melitta said, taking a huge bite out of a slice she'd cut.

"That's disgusting," Lara said.

"What is?" Melitta asked, genuinely confused.

"You're getting it all over your face," Lara said.  Melitta noted that there was juice dripping from her chin, but that was to be expected.  Juice fruit was many things; clean was not one of them.  "Didn't anyone teach you manners, honey bee?" Lara asked.

Melitta took an inventory of the seeds in her mouth.  The soft ones she'd already eaten.  The hard ones though...  she got the first in position and said, "Oh you'll pay for that, seagull," and spat a seed at Lara.

Then another.  And another.

"Wait!" Lara shouted.  Melitta fully expected the other princess to say something about decorum or the like.  Instead Lara said, "I'm unarmed," and lunged for a slice of the juice fruit.

After Lara took a bite Melitta had to dodge incoming fire.

Band story, early middle I think

[Story first mentioned here, beginning here, fragment of the very late middle here.  You know, if I made notes, at some point I'm going to find my notes for this and find out what everyone was supposed to be called originally because these names I had to make up on the spot for the beginning and I don't think they're what I was originally thinking of.  In particular I think Jesse had a less gender neutral name and thus had two names, one male chosen by her parents, one female chosen by herself.]

[Jesse, Isa, Kaki, and Cassy are sitting together talking about music and instruments.  By which I mean Jesse is silently listening while the three band members talk.  Angela is elsewhere.]

Isa turned to Jesse, "And what about you?"

There was silence, all attention turned to Jesse and it made her uncomfortable, and threatened to bring up bad memories she fought to keep down.  She stammered, "I don't.. I mean I'm not... I've never..."

"What's your favorite instrument?" Cassy asked, her tone was non-threatening and encouraging.  That helped set Jesse at ease some.

"I don't know," Jesse said, "I just listen.  I'm not like you."

"Have you ever played one?" Isa asked.

Jesse said, "No."

"What, not even a recorder at school?" Kaki asked.

"No..." the trailing silence was filled with surprised looks, "Is that odd?" Jesse asked.

Cassy says, "Well to us, but apparently not for you."

Kaki asked, "Do any singing?"

"No," Jesse said.

"So in your entire life you've never produced music," Isa said in a way that seemed to fall somewhere in the gap between question and statement.

"That's right," Jesse said.  "I'm not like you guys-" none of the three would have had a problem with her saying that but Jesse corrected to, "girls-" then corrected to, "women-" then finally settled on, "musicians.  I don't play, I don't sing, I just listen."

"Well we can't have that," Isa said.  Kaki and Cassy looked at each other in knowing ways leaving Jesse with the impression that she was the only one who didn't know what was coming next.  "You have to play at least one instrument at least once in your life.  Pick an instrument.  I'll teach you.  If you don't like it you can never do it again, but try."

There was silence.

"Come on," Isa said, "just name an instrument."

Jesse looked around.  She looked at Cassy, seamstress for the band and drummer . . . who played clarinet too.  Kaki, guitar, and an eclectic mix of things that appeared in one song only: saxophone, flute, trumpet, triangle, what else?  Isa, base and keyboard and god knew how many other things because where Kaki might play an instrument only used for a single song, Isa would play ones that only appeared in a single line.  And when not on stage spent some of her time playing things that never appeared in the band's music.

Jesse tried to think of the most obscure instrument in existence.  Something certain not to be around.

Finally she said, "Glass armonica."

"Sure thing," Isa said, then got up and walked away.

"Wait, you have one?" Kaki nodded.  "I didn't mean that.  I meant harpsichord!" Jesse shouted in Isa's direction.  Then turned back to Kaki and Cassy.  "She doesn't have a harpsichord, right?"

"Well, that depends," Kaki said.

"Do you mean she doesn't have one with her, or she doesn't have one at all?" Cassy asked.

Jesse simply responded with a stunned look on her face.

"It's why we'll never be rich," Cassy said.  "We buy things."

"As soon as money is had, money is spent," Kaki added.

Cassy said, "And Isa can spend like nobody's business because what she likes-"

"More than anything," Kaki added.

Cassy finished, "-is instruments."

There was a bit of a silence.

Then Kaki said, "A lot of the ones I play actually belong to her."

Isa returned with a long wooden box, put it in front of Jesse, then disappeared for a moment and came back with a bowl of water.

When the box was opened a series of horizontal nested glass bowls was revealed.

Isa started talking, "It's got an electric motor to keep it going at a steady pace, and some stuff so the sound can be amplified, but other than that it's just your bog standard glass armonica."

Jesse did nothing.  Isa turned on the motor and the bowls started to slowly spin.

Jesse did nothing.

"Come on, touch it, it doesn't bite."  Jesse did nothing.  "I'll prove it to you."  Isa put one of her own fingers in the water, then lay it on one of the rotating bowls.  A clear distinctive note sang out until she removed her finger. "See, no biting."

Jesse did nothing.

Isa sat down beside her.  "I'm not going to force you do it.  If you really want to never play an instrument in your life, ok.  Blasphemy, but that's ok.  But sometimes you need to try new things and... and seriously did you ever even thing you were going to this close to one of these?  All that I'm asking, and that's what I'm doing -asking, not demanding-, is that you give it a try."

Jesse slowly wet her fingers, and then placed one upon a spinning bowl.  A note sang out.  Isa smiled, then she placed another on a different bowl.  And again.  Like a child who knew nothing of music playing a piano an erratic tune was produced.

Isa asked, "Would you like me to teach you to play."

"I don't know," Jesse said.  "Maybe."

-

[Band Story Index]

[Original Work Index]

Band story, _very_ late middle

So first off, spoilers for the band story if you have any hope of reading it in order, which will, of course, require me to write it in order.  Anyway, its beginning is here, that's the only part written so far, and I first mentioned it here, where I described it thus: "it's basically Twilight if you replace, 'Vampires' with 'female musicians,' and 'abusive' with 'supportive'".

Anyway, the plan for January to be a month of beginnings isn't going so well, I'd say.

-

[Very late in the story, but not the end because there's still the whole matter of a nostos and completing the term at college.]

Angela and Jesse returned to their room, giggling perhaps a bit too loud and once the door was shut the kissing started.  Then stopped.

Jesse pushed Angela away and said, "No." And there was silence.  Finally, "I'm not... I can't... I don't want to be some project for you to fix or something you're only with because you pity."

In spite of her best efforts, anger crept into Angela's voice, "Is that what you think our relationship has been?"  And then the anger took over, "Do you really think so little of me?  Because I'm not enamored with the idea of a pity fuck either."

"I didn't... I'm sorry... I just, I need to know that it's not because you found me broken."

Angela sighed and walked in a small circle, "If I hadn't found you..." she couldn't make herself say broken and so silence broke her sentence and threatened to take over, she took the sentence back by saying, "like that," and after a beat continued, "you wouldn't be here.  But I'd like to think -I tell myself and honestly believe- that if we'd been on this journey together because you were the band's new cowbell player-"

"More cowbell," Jesse said dully, but with a hint of amusement.

"Yes indeed.

"I'd like to think that we'd be here if that were why you've been with us.  I even think we might have been here earlier, because I had to be sure for myself that it wasn't about pity, or something like that, and I wouldn't have needed to if we'd met differently.

"We've been traveling together, we've been talking together, we've been sharing a room, even sharing a bed lately, even if you're always fully clothed and you do always fight for the blankets-

"I have to fight for them, if I don't you take them all."

"The point is, I think we know each other pretty well, and what I want to do now I want to do because I like you, and I think you like me, and that has nothing to do with the accident of how we met."

Jesse came in close, put her arms over Angela's shoulders, interlaced them behind her head, looked her in the eyes, and asked, "You mean that?"  Angela nodded, "You really mean that?"

Angela said, "Yes."

Jesse kissed Angela.

Some time later they were on the bed, both had shed their pants and Angela her shirt.  Jesse lay on her back and Angela was on top of her, kissing her.  Both were moving towards doing more than kissing when Jesse said, "You should know..." and then didn't finish the thought.

"I should know what?"

"This is really awkward, don't rush me."

"Wait too long and we'll lose the moment."

"I... uh..." then she said quickly, "I've never," beat, "been with a girl before."

Angela asked with mock injury, "Girl?"

"Woman, whatever."

"I've never been with a woman before either."

And the moment was ruined.  "That's not funny," Jesse said, in a voice devoid of emotion.

Angela was confused, "What?  I haven't."  After a pause she added, "You've forced me to rethink my entire sexual identity."

"You know what I mean," Jesse said, a hint of anger tinging her voice.

"You look like a woman to me."

Now anger and sadness wrestled for control of Jesse's tone, "That's only because of tricks of... of clothing.  My breasts are glorified beanbags for fuck's sake."

And now it was an argument, Angela argued back. "Designed by a woman, not a man, to keep herself looking the way she wanted to after a mastectomy.  There's nothing not-female about them."

"Once my clothes are off I'm not a woman, I'm just a guy with an odd haircut."

"If that's how you feel about it leave your damn bra on," Angela said.  Then after a pause, she made a grunt of dissatisfaction and annoyance and then pushed herself off and rolled so she was laying, looking at the ceiling, to Jesse's right.

There was silence.

"Moment officially lost." Angela said.  More silence.  "You are a woman, no matter what your body says.  You know it because you can feel it, I know it because you told me."

"Whatever," anger had lost the fight to sadness in Jesse's voice.

More silence, until it seemed like all had been said.  It was at this point that Angela asked, "Could we start again?"  and after a moment added, "Please?"

Jesse hummed the tune to Could we start again please?*.

Angela sang, "I've been very hopeful, so far."

Jesse sang, "Now, for the first time, I think we're going wrong."

Angela, "Hurry up and tell me, this is just a dream."

Jesse, "Or could we start again please?"

"I honestly wasn't thinking about that when I said it," Angela said.  Then, after a pause, "So, could we start again?"

Jesse let out a sigh.  Then, "Sure."

Angela straddled Jesse and hovered over her, their faces inches apart.  "Complete do over?" she asked.

Jesse said, "Total Mulligan."

Angela said, "None of that stuff from before happened and we're starting from scratch?"

Jesse said, "Your hair," which was brushing against Jesse's face, "tickles."

Angela took a deep inhale, then let it out, then said, "I want to kiss you." Pause.  "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Jesse said, "Yes."

And so they kissed.

Later on Angela said, "I want to have sex with you.  Do you want to have sex with me?"

Jesse said, "Yes."

And so they did.

-

* First youtube result is here, Deleted, Try here.
   A Doctor Who version exists.

-

[Band Story Index]

[Original Work Index]

Band Story Start

[First mentioned here, I think.  Finally got around to starting it.]
(Content notes: Story starts with transphobia and betrayal)

Angela hummed a song by Jackson Browne as she surveyed the damage. The smells of sweat, beer and marijuana mingled in her nostrils and she was left with the perpetual question, “How does this much junk even get in here in the first place?”

She couldn't compare her fans to anyone else's, because she'd never had to pick up after anyone else's fans, but she dreamed of a day when either the fans would pick up after themselves, or the band would be successful enough to hire someone to clean out the venue afterward.

Every so often they were able to book a place with its own cleaning staff, but more often the played in smaller spots, half the time they seemed to be in a high school gym, and part of the deal was that they'd leave it as good as they found it.

Which meant going from playing music in front of a cheering crowd, to picking up the garbage said crowd had left on the ground because, apparently, they had some kind of problem with trash cans. She loved their fans, and understood that they weren't playing easy listening, but the mess was always annoying as hell.

Browne was right; the only time that seemed to short was the time that they got to play.

The other members of the band were loading up their equipment while she was looking around the venue and trying to work out the best plan of attack for the ensuing clean up.

And that's when she heard something she shouldn't have heard.

The crowd had already left, everyone was supposed to be gone, it was clean up time. She shouldn't be hearing another human being. And certainly not a sobbing one.

She followed the sound to a spot that wasn't quite dark and wasn't quite a corner, but was close enough to a dark corner for people to walk right by without noticing the ball of sadness slumped against a wall in it.

At first she thought that it was a woman, maybe college age, about their standard demographic, but as she approached she wasn't so sure. The long dark hair was falling off the person's head, revealing shorter blonde hair underneath. The person's shirt was ripped, and a bra cup visible through it was empty. Whatever had been stuffing it, and based on the other one, still hidden under the shirt, something had been, was gone.

The person's face was indeterminate.  Makeup had been applied at some point, but it was a mess now.  Tears and snot had both stained the face, and the sobbing was only broken by gasps for breath.

Angela decided that until she was told otherwise the person was a girl. Otherwise she might be siding with whoever left her in this state. The girl hadn't noticed her, Angela walked right next to her, put her back against the wall, and then slid down to the disgusting sticky floor.

Angela put her arm around the girl, who still had yet to notice her, at least based on surprised flinch when Angela did. Then she asked, “You ok?”

The girl didn't look at her, she just said (in a fairly masculine voice), “Do I look ok?”

“Well not to me, but I think anyone who wears those silly plastic shoes doesn't look ok, so who am I to say?”

The snort that produced somehow mixed a laugh and a cry. The girl finally looked at Angela. She said flatly, “My first impulse is to say, 'Oh my god you're-'”

“Angela,” Angela said.

“-in a really excited voice. But I'm sort of out of excitement at the moment.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The girl just looked at her.

“On second thought, let's get you cleaned up,” Angela said. “You good for standing?”

“Probably,” the girl said, her voice still flat, “but I make no promises.” For the briefest of moments after saying that she had what was almost a grin or a smirk, but then it disappeared.

The two got up and Angela led the college-girl, whose name she still didn't know, to the nearest restroom. She sensed some resistance to going into the female restroom, but it passed before a word was said and the two went in.

Angela said a silent prayer of thanks that there was still a paper towel dispenser, she'd been in plenty of restrooms where they had been entirely replaced by hand driers of the blowy nature. She got some, got them wet, and began to clean the girls face. When the wig got in the way the girl took it off.  Angela thought she looked pretty without it.

“So,” Angela started, “Care to tell me what happened?”

“I was betrayed by the only people I thought were my friends.”

“Ok... That sucks but it leaves a lot of blanks to fill in and unless you give me some help I'm going to need to fill in those blanks with terrifying space monkeys.”  Angela was glad to see that that did get a half smile.  Improvement was being made.

“Alright,” there was a pause.  “Uh,” another pause. “Where do I start?”

“I find that the beginning is a good place.”

“In the beginning there were the dinosaurs, but they got too big and-”

“That's probably too far.”

“In the beginning I was born.”

“Probably still too far.”

“No. It's not.” It was the most forceful thing the girl had said, and Angela simply waited for more.  “I was born wrong. I was a perfectly healthy baby boy, and no one saw any problem with that but me.”

The college-girl took a deep breath, “It took me years to figure out that that's what was wrong, and for years longer I hid it from everyone because I was afraid of what they'd do if they found out.

“Then... then finally... Then I went to university. I was surrounded by completely different people who didn't have any expectations about me, and I made friends with a group of girls my age.

“I thought we were good friends, I thought I could trust them. After a while I thought I could trust them with anything. So I told them. I told them that I wasn't supposed to be male and at first they were shocked, but then they seemed to be accepting and supportive.

“And uh... and we're on break right now and they suggested that we go on a road trip to see... to see you.  We'd spend the break following you from stop to stop, no one would know me but them, so I could spend the whole time being female without having to worry about being found out because it wouldn't matter if a stranger found out.”

She stopped talking.

Angela said, “I'm guessing things didn't go to plan.”

“Oh they went to plan, just not mine,” her anger was evident.

“You know,” Angela said, “I don't even know your name.”

“Jesse.”

“Jesse, that's a nice name.”  Angela paused for a bit, then asked, “What happened tonight?”

“Tonight was our first stop. As far from home as we were ever going to be. So we came out here, started to enjoy the music, and then,” Jesse sniffled, “and then they outed me in front of everyone within hearing distance and told me what they really thought about me.”

“And I'm guessing that it wasn't all complements on your storytelling,” Angela said.

“They ripped open my shirt, my favorite shirt, just so that everyone could see what they were saying was true.” Jesse started crying again. Not sobs, just tears running down her face. “So everyone could see what a freak I am.”

“I don't- look at me. Look me in the eye so you can see I'm telling the truth. That's better. I don't think you're a freak.”

“You don't?” Angela wasn't sure if she heard doubt or gratitude.

“I don't,” Angela said firmly.  Then, more casually, she added, “But we can't have you going around in that ripped shirt.” And there was a simple solution, Angela had been raised in a fundamentalist church that thought any kind of social justice was godless socialism but it had also idolized the Bible, which led her to actually read the thing. Someone was in front of her who didn't have a good shirt, she was wearing two -a black outer one and a red inner one- clearly God wanted her to give one away.

Angela took off her outer shirt and said, “Here, it's sweaty as all hell and probably a bit small for you, but it's in one piece.”

Jesse looked confused.

Angela explained, “It's a shirt, you put it on,” and after a pause added, “but before you do you, might want to adjust your... your uh... your boobs. We can't have you walking around with one boob.” Actually they could, Angela thought, who would object?

Soon the two of them left the bathroom, each wearing one shirt, and Jesse appearing to have two equal sized breasts. Angela was carrying Jesse's torn shirt and trying to figure out what to do next. As Jesse had put it, amid more tears, she'd been left, “without money, or id, or a way to contact anyone three states away from home.” The simplest solution seemed to be buying her a bus ticket. And initially that was what Angela planned to do. It was two steps before she abandoned that plan.

That girl all alone on a long trip in this state of mind? Bad idea.

Three steps more and Angela had made up her mind, “Do you want to tag along with us?”

Jesse was shocked, “What?”

“We've got some extra space and we're headed that way. It'll be slow because we're not exactly taking the most direct route, and you'll be late for your classes by the time we get there, but it wouldn't cost you anything and...” Angela was trying to find a way to make this convincing without saying, 'and you're in such a fragile state I'm afraid to leave you on your own.' She didn't need to.

Jesse said, “Yes! I'd love to.”

And then all that remained was to sell it to the rest of the band.

“Where have you been?” Isa asked as soon as Angela came into sight. All three of the other band members were waiting.

“Making a new friend. Everyone this is Jesse, she's going to be tagging along with us for a while.”  That no objections were immediately raised had to be a good sign.  “Jesse, these are Isa, Kaki, and Cassy. Don't get the two with the ka- names confused, they hate that.”

“I know,” Jesse said, her voice more feminine, less than ideal but passable, “I'm trying very hard not to be an annoying fangirl right now.”

“Keep trying,” Isa said, “Don't ever stop trying.” There was a pause. “Do that and we'll probably get along. Though I make no promises.”

Angela smiled, Jesse had said almost the exact same thing. She had a feeling they'd get along.

“What?” Isa asked.

“Nothing important. We've got a lot of cleaning to do.” She threw Jesse's shirt to Cassy, “Afterwards could you see if you can fix that?”

“Sure,” Cassy said.

Kaki walked up to Jesse and said, “Come on, I'll show you what we need to do,” and led her away.

Isa came in for a private conversation with Angela, “Why are we becoming a taxi service?”

“I'll tell the whole story to everyone once we're done here, or Jesse can, but the short version is that I don't think she can make it on her own.”

Isa nodded. “If she plays nice, I'll play nice.”

Then they all got to cleaning.

-

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