Chest Can't Be Chiselled

As I stared at the Venus de Milo, jealousy overwhelmed me. The statue didn’t have the body I wanted, but at least the marble was malleable. I pictured someone hammering away at its torso until there was nothing but a smooth surface, then brought a hand to my own chest. Too bad there were no paintings of Medusa in the Louvre; maybe if I were made of stone, I could change a few things and keep my secret a little longer.

“Why are you wearing a sweater?” Malcolm asked, smacking me on the back as he approached. “It’s like forty degrees outside.”

“I run really cold,” I said through a wince. Between the heat and my binder, I felt like I was on the verge of death.

“You should take it off,” Renee said. “You’re as red as a tomato.”

“It’s because I’m cold.”

Renee placed the back of her hand against my forehead. “I don’t think so. You’re burning up.”

My face only got redder. Renee moved her hand, but she didn’t back away. She smirked at my flustered expression.

“Alright, class. The bus is here,” our chaperoning teacher called from the doors. “Climb aboard; take your seats. Let’s go, let’s go! We have to be back at the hotel for dinner.”

Renee nudged my shoulder as we got in line. “Sit with me again?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

She took my hand—she took my hand!—and led me to the back of the bus. It was a good thing she was so direct with me because I had been struggling to make the first move since the moment I fell for her. 

I was the new kid last semester, so when Renee sat beside me on the first day of art class, I thought she was just in search of a quiet place to work. But then she started asking me for advice, even though her piece was already flawless, and our conversation quickly diverged into tangents about our interests. She did most of the talking, which was okay with me. I could listen to her gush about art history for hours. 

“What did you think of the museum?” Renee asked. She pulled me out of the memory as the driver pulled out of the parking lot.

“Eh, it was okay.” I wished I could have said more, but with Renee’s arm brushing against mine, I couldn’t recall even half of what we saw.

Renee rolled her eyes with a playful sigh. “What is it with boys? You can never appreciate fine art.”

“I can too! I can appreciate it… existing.”

“Okay then; what was your favourite painting?”

I gulped. “The blue one?”

She laughed and hit my arm like she was flirting with me. Was she flirting with me? Butterflies arose, but they couldn’t prevent a knot from forming in my gut. The knot pulled on my stomach lining, like I was going to be sick, begging for me to stop what I was doing before Renee found out the truth and wanted nothing to do with me just like all the kids at my last school—

“What was your favourite painting?” I asked, cutting off my anxious spiral.

She shrugged. “I was more into the statues. There’s something so incredible about the human body, you know?”

I thought back to my daydream of chisels and mallets.

“I guess,” I said.

She gave me a weird look, the one she always made when she was about to tease me. “Do you not like the human body, Colton?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I mean, you have one, after all.”

I scratched at my sweaty neck. “Mm-hmm. That’s right.”

I hated my voice for cracking. At least I knew the testosterone was working.

Renee yawned and leaned her head against the window. I watched her breath fog up the glass, but quickly turned my gaze away from her lips. Maybe I had a shot with her, but I also had a pair of grenades strapped under my clothes.

The bus stopped. I stood up, and with a pounding heart, offered my hand to Renee.

“What a gentleman,” she said as I helped her to her feet.

“Well, you dragged me onto the bus, so I guess I should drag you off—wait, no, that doesn’t sound right—”

Renee giggled in a way I thought only existed in romantic comedies. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

I couldn’t fight my smile as we stepped off the bus and followed our class through the hotel doors. She called me cute—that was enough to distract me from my forming migraine. She called me cute!

Malcolm stared at us in disgust as we joined the rest of our grade in the lobby. His gaze darted from our interlaced hands to our faces, as if trying to figure something out.

"Aw, so cute," he finally said, his voice dripping with jealous sarcasm. "Get a room, lovebirds."

“Hey, listen up!" a teacher yelled. "Students! Attention, please! Malcolm, that means you. For the next few hours, you are free to roam about the hotel. But you must stay inside the building, and you must be present just outside the restaurant at 7:00. Is that understood?”

A chorused yes echoed through the room, followed by excited chatter. I let out a slow breath, wincing a bit as a spiky pain shot up to my head. How long had I been wearing my binder? I needed to change ASAP.

“Do you want to go check out the pool with me?” Renee asked. "We can dip our feet in the hot tub."

Oof, tough choice. Should I go hang out with my crush or run upstairs to stop my binder from crushing me?

“I’ll go with you,” Malcolm offered. “Colton can’t swim.”

I scoffed. “Yes I can.”

“Oh, really? Then why do I never see you go in the water? We went to the beach yesterday and you stayed on land the whole time.”

“Quit being so judgmental,” Renee said. "Maybe he's secretly a merman."

“Or maybe he’s scared of water,” Malcolm pressed.

I shook my head. “I’m not scared.”

“Lay off, Malcolm," Renee said, then turned back to me. "We don’t have to go to the pool if you don’t want to. We can look for the game room instead.”

My ribs screamed at me.

“Uh… that’s okay. You go with Malcolm to the pool. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

And with that, I bolted off towards the unbelievably slow elevator. The stairs might have been faster, but I genuinely didn’t think I’d make it up four flights without passing out.

“What a chicken,” I heard Malcolm say as I pressed the button to go up. “He really needs to grow a pair.”

“Ha, like that proves anything!” Renee huffed. “You want bravery? Grow a fucking uterus.”

Oh look at that. I'm already one step ahead.

I hopped into the elevator and took shallow breaths as I waited for it to bring me to my floor. I prayed that my roommates were still downstairs as I tried not to stumble through the halls.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," I muttered as I wrestled with the door. "Fuck you, binder. Fuck you, ribs. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you."

The key finally let me in. My shoe got stuck between the heavy metal door and its frame as I kicked it off, but I didn’t bother retrieving it. I fell to my knees beside the bed, cursing myself for thinking I could go on a school trip without anyone finding out. I waited there for a few seconds to let my heart rate return to normal, focussing on each exhale. 

I tossed my sweater to the side and grabbed the bottom of my shirt. I backed up into the corner of the room as I pulled the top over my head. With a weak grunt, I struggled out of it, but before I could actually remove the binder, someone approached the door.

"Colton, you in here? Sorry, I kinda followed you up. And no, I’m not a stalker, I just got worried—"

I froze in place as Renee pushed the door the rest of the way open.

Shit.

Renee stared at me. Her eyes drifted from my shocked expression to my chest. I could feel the colour draining from my cheeks.

"I... hi, Renee!" I said, my voice raising an octave as I scrambled to put my shirt back on. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Is that a binder?" she asked through stiff lips.

"What? Pfffft, no... it's just a tank top I bought downstairs from the gift shop—yeah. Yeah, it's... it's a binder."

My lungs gave out. I inhaled, but no air got to my brain. All I could think about was how Renee knew. Beautiful, impossibly intelligent Renee—the girl I admired more than anything and thought I actually had a chance of connecting with—she knew.

"Colton?"

Her voice sounded distant. I looked up at her, and for some reason the lines tracing her figure were radiating outwards. My vision fuzzed, and my depth perception barely registered her approaching me. I could only hear the sound of my rapid breathing.

"Colton. Dude. Stop hyperventilating. It's okay."

She knows. She thinks I’m a freak. She won’t want to be my friend anymore. She’s disgusted. She hates me now.

I felt her hands on the sides of my arms. I shut my eyes as I lost all feeling in my legs. Renee's concerned grip on my shoulders kept me up briefly, but she noticed my weakened state and helped me to the ground. I was still gasping for air, but Renee awkwardly pulling me into a hug made things a little better.

"You know... okay, I'm not great with feelings and stuff, but I want you to know that I’ll accept you no matter what. Like, nothing is going to change that,” she said.

"Really?" I stuttered out. Jeez, why couldn't my diaphragm get its rhythm back already?

"Yeah, I mean, you're still you," Renee said, sitting back on her heels. She swung her legs around and crossed them in front of her.

"So, me being trans doesn't... bother you?"

"What? Heck, no,” she said. “Why would it?”

That was a great question. I scratched the back of my neck, forcing myself to remember hthat not all people were as bigoted as the kids at my old school.

“Hey, um,” Renee said. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to ask considering you just had an anxiety attack, but there’s a new superhero movie coming out next week, and I was wondering if you wanted to see it with me? Like, when we get back to Ottawa?”

“Movie?” I blinked a few times. “Are you asking me out?”

“Uh, huh.”

“Like on a date?”

“Yep.”

I frowned. “Aw, man.”

She frowned, too. “Is that a no?”

“No, no, it’s just… I wanted to ask you out.”

“Ha! Oh, trust me. I know,” Renee said with a shake of her head. “But you were taking wayyyy too long.”