I managed to stumble my way over to one of the benches and slumped onto the seat as tears welled up in my eyes and a sob wrenched its way out of my throat. This is what I've wanted ever since those strange dreams started with the man who claimed to be my Dad, but it couldn't have come at a worse time.
I had just been expelled from Yancy Academy, the sixth school in six years, and ran away instead of finishing out the year, as the principal had offered. Not to mention that I somehow managed to jump out of the frying pan that was being a troubled kid into the fire of being a murderer. I mean, sure, it was self-defense, and it didn't seem like I was going to be punished, but that didn't change what happened. Mrs. Dodds twisted face, the sickly sweet, almost sympathetic way she acted when she admitted to knowing about my secret desire to be a girl, and the shocked, pained look on her face when the sword cut through her body, and the sound it made still haunted my dreams every night.
I hugged myself tighter and sobbed. I wanted my Mom, but she wouldn't know who I am. Not like this. I looked in the mirror and saw a girl nearly identical to what my mom looked like at my age, with the exception of my hair and eyes, which hadn't changed. However, I couldn't find comfort in it. I wanted to hear my mom tell me that it was all okay and that she loved me as she wrapped me tight in her arms before asking me to help her make blue cookies and wiping away my tears.
My hand instinctively wrapped around the necklace those old ladies had given me as I tore it off and threw it. I was angry. The accursed thing may have granted my wish to be a girl, but unless I found a way to explain this to my mom, it had come at the cost of the only person who ever cared about me. I had expected to hear the thunk of the trident hitting the ground, but it never came. I was about to look up when I heard a voice.
"You know, it's not very wise to throw away a gift," the level, almost judging, voice of a woman called out before giving a wry chuckle, "though I certainly would never judge anyone for not being fond of a trident. Such an impractical symbol."
I looked up and froze, standing in front of me, the necklace in one hand and her other on her hip was the most breathtaking woman I had ever seen. Her long, striking blonde hair was pulled into an intricate braid that somehow screamed practicality while still being beautiful. Her expressive gray eyes looked like swirling storm clouds that seemed to be analyzing my every movement and breaking down everything that made up my identity. Her full lips were quirked in a crooked, wry smile, only further accentuated by the fact that one of her eyebrows was raised as she let out a mirthful chuckle at my awestruck expression as I admired the woman who seemed to be a Greek statue brought to life.
Somehow, that chuckle broke me out of my stupor, and even though I knew I had never met the woman before, I felt like I had known her for a lifetime. "It's not because of the trident," I found myself explaining with ease as if I felt no reason to keep secrets from her, "it's what that necklace did to me and what it cost me."
"Ah," she nodded as she moved to sit down next to me, "gifts from those three are rarely free even when they claim they want to help." She placed the necklace into her lap before reaching over and beginning to pull my hair into the same braid she was wearing. "However," she hummed, "I believe if you think things through, you'll find that you have no real reason to be afraid. After all, this is hardly the first unexplainable thing in your life, is it?"
I found myself relaxing as her hands worked through my hair. The logical approach she was taking in her questioning was calming my frantic thoughts as I started thinking back through my life, realizing she was right. My mom has never questioned me in the past and always seemed ready to accept what happened. From the time we went to Central Park, where I had a whole conversation with one of the horses and helped calm it down when I was eight. Not to mention when I was nine and pissed off the family next door, when they replaced their kids dead goldfish with a live one without telling her, I ruined the ruse by telling the girl it wasn't the same fish because this one had a Hispanic accent while the old one was Chinese. My mom had never questioned any of it and simply chalked it up to me being me.
The woman smiled and nodded, "I knew you'd figure it out, you are, after all, a warrior of the mind." She pressed the necklace back into my hand, and when I looked at it, I found that it had changed. Instead of being a simple trident, it now appeared to be a simplistic stylized owl with its wings spread and a trident bisecting it. I looked up to ask her about it, only to realize that the woman was gone.
"Strange," I muttered to myself as I pulled the necklace back on before hopping to my feet and waving down a cab, finally ready to head to the sweet shoppe and tell my mom everything. I now had the wisdom to hold faith in the constant that the goddess that is Sally Jackson would always be my mom and that something as strange as me turning into a girl would not change that.