For a Girl, J.T. D'Arelli [reading fiction txt] 📗

be the best athlete, the best girl, the best person she can be."

Wow. With his mellifluous voice and vocabulary, Mr. Martin had defined me better than I'd ever done for myself.

"In short, the media can't help but present Stephanie to the public as a sympathetic figure. And when I finish contrasting that with the naked self-interest of McCarthy and her coach, the public will see Stephanie as the wronged party. That aids our case — because whether we like it or not, what happens outside the courtroom influences what happens inside it. Recall OJ or the Massachusetts au-pair girl."

The attorney continued. "And this is doubly important for us, Stephanie, because transgendered law is ill-defined at best. I started research last night, as soon as your coach called me. The good news is that you are recognized as legally female in all fifty states. But that only applies to public institutions, and only in certain ways. It is still permissible for any private entity to define 'female' in accordance with their own criteria."

"You may remember the story of Renee Richards, back in the 1970's. She became a woman via a sex-change operation. She won the right to be recognized as a female by her home state — her driver's license and amended birth certificate reflect that. But when she attempted to play professional tennis as a woman, the US Open and the USTA invoked a rarely used 'sex test'. They defined 'woman' as a function of one's chromosomes. Since Richards still had the XY genetics of a man, when her cellular structure was put under the microscope, she failed to meet the standard set by the tournaments. Despite her legal status as a woman, she lost the courtroom battle and was barred from playing in women's events."

"But I'm XX," I said.

"Exactly. GB goes far beyond any operation. Boys transformed by GB into girls are considered to be females as a matter of settled case law, at both the state and federal levels. That was resolved fairly quickly after the advent of GB. What has not been resolved is the status of sports — which remains perhaps the only area of public life where there is a distinct and irreconcilable difference due to gender. Because males as a group are more potent athletically than females, crossing that line will inevitably result in conflict. That's what happened to Renee Richards and what Oxton is hoping will happen to you."

"Will it?" I asked nervously.

"Not very likely." He spoke with such confidence I was instantly reassured. "Unlike Renee Richards, there is no conceivable standard of physical femininity you cannot meet. No matter what 'test' Oxton may attempt to invoke, you will pass it as the girl you are. I confirmed that in my discussions with the Syracuse GRS this morning."

I was impressed by how much he had already accomplished.

He continued. "The only strategy that can help them is the unknown. Because GB is so mysterious in origin, Oxton will argue that the lack of scientific explanation as to how GB functions means there are too many uncertainties to permit you to compete. They will claim that you may have some hidden advantage, some hint of masculinity locked away that gives you an unfair edge when competing against girls. They'll be pushing the intangibles."

"That sounds like it might work," Coach Bradford said.

"If this were a criminal case, absolutely not. They would have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you were still male in some way — which they cannot possibly do. But since this is a civil matter, there is a chance, albeit slim, that they could convince a judge. By the way, there will be no jury trial here — the tort process requires the judge to make both findings of fact and findings of law."

"So the judge that signed this injunction will be deciding," I said morosely.

"Yes, but don't get too pessimistic about that. Judge Burrell has a fair reputation. He's an old-fashioned guy and that will work in our favor."

"How so?"

"Stephanie, for all the high-flown legalese, his decision will come down to one simple question: are you a real girl? It will be your job to convince him you are. If he sees you as such, we can easily make our case. You've got three more days to get ready — we'll appear in front of him on Tuesday."

"That fast?" I was suddenly nervous again.

"Time is of the essence here. While it's too late to get you into the state competitions, we must conclude this prior to the national championships. Yes, I researched all that as well. We need a formal declaration from a court to establish the precedent, once and for all, that you are female in every way. That will not only protect you, but all the GB girls who come after you as well."

He continued. "After all, Stephanie, you're the first male national-class athlete to attempt to resume competition as a girl. There was one basketball player who was considered an NBA prospect — but GB took nearly a foot of height away from him and once female she never played in the WNBA. I suspect it was just too much for her to cope with."

I vaguely remembered the story. I could sure sympathize with her, though!

"So now you understand. In the end, Oxton will not set the standard for femininity — you will. On Tuesday, you need to be attired accordingly."

Mom spoke. "Should we get her a business suit?" I thought back to the secretary.

"No," Mr. Martin said. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but she'd look like a little girl playing dress-up in her mommy's clothes. Better for her to look like the feminine teenager she is, rather than a contrived attempt at womanhood. I suggest a spring dress, just below the knee, soft pastels, no prints, lightly ruffled collar and sleeves, with matching hose and heels. Something that a young girl would wear to church."

I was amazed at his sartorial expertise. He was very, very good. I guess you get what you pay for. Speaking of which...

He seemed to read my mind. "Don't worry, Stephanie — I'm taking this pro bono. Fact is, you're doing me a favor. I have no regrets over choosing the peaceful country life — but I do miss the challenge of making new law — and that's what we're going to do here."

He smiled, shook our hands and reminded us to be at the county courthouse on Tuesday.

I spent a quiet day doing a few chores and some homework. I was considering what my attorney had said this morning — about how it would all come down to one thing — proving my gender to the judge. And I knew it was much more than just having a woman's chest and vulva. After all, Renee Richards had all that too, but it hadn't helped her in the sports arena.

But could I get the world and the judge in particular, to accept me as a real girl — when I was still trying to accept it myself? If I was filled with apprehension about tonight's pool/slumber party, how would I do in the courtroom?

Still, I am stubborn, as you've no doubt concluded by now — I was going to try.

I pondered it all while mowing the lawn. Sweat poured down into my bra — I grumbled a bit — wasn't this supposed to be a boy's job? It would have been nice if turning into a girl had gotten me out of some of the more onerous tasks around the house. Though it was probably for the best I wasn't too focused on stereotypes of gender-appropriate labor. After all, despite my newfound femininity, I was still a lousy cook.

I lost track of time — Mom called me to get ready. Hurriedly, I raced through my shower.

"Honey, I'll pack an overnight bag for you."

"Thanks, Mom — please don't forget my bikini." God, it felt surreal to say that!

I spent a few minutes fussing with my hair in front of the mirror, strangely nervous — and I realized I was actually worried about how I would look for the boys. I ran a brush through my long locks. No sense in worrying too much — it was just going to get wet again. I pulled on a set of snug denim shorts over pink cotton panties and tugged a cute tee over my chest. I checked my look — simple, but sweet. I seemed so young!

I raced for the car, where Mom was waiting with my bag. She drove me over to Sue's place.

"Your first slumber party — how fun."

"I don't think they call them that any more, Mom." Borrowing from Sue, I was trying to play the sophisticated teenager — even though I knew far less than she.

"Whatever the name — they're all the same. You'll talk and giggle the whole night long — then sleep until noon." She smiled in indulgent recollection.

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be jaded. We looked at each other — then burst out laughing.

"Okay. I admit it. I don't know anything."

"You'll be fine, honey. Just relax and have a good time. And make sure Sue kicks the boys out before bedtime. After they see you in that bikini — they won't want to leave."

"Oh, Mother." I said dramatically. But I was a little concerned — as an ex-boy I knew even better than she how right she was. How was Sue going to keep control? We arrived at the house and I gave Mom a quick kiss before heading inside.

You're a Doll, Baby!

Sue greeted me at the door, wearing the sexy bikini (is there any other kind?) we'd picked out for her earlier. She looked very, very nice — but... last week I would've needed a bib to control the drool. Now, no physical response at all from my body at all. Nothing more than appreciation for another girl's beauty.

I really had changed. Speaking of which, Sue guided me to a bathroom where I could put on my own bathing suit. It was a warm day, but I shook a little as I stepped into the skimpy bottoms and carefully tied the top across my breasts. Still a bit bizarre to look in the full-length mirror as I undressed — seeing the naked teenage girl I'd become. But I was starting to get used to the idea of looking like this. If only my suit wasn't so revealing!

Who was I kidding? If I didn't really want to reveal so much skin, I wouldn't be wearing this in the first place. There was a part of me, growing stronger every day, that liked the idea of showing off. Narcissistic? Oh, yeah. Shakespeare did write 'Vanity, thy name is woman'. But as I tentatively stepped out of the bathroom and went out to the flagstone deck, I understood something else. A woman's body can give her power over men. No, it's not PC — but it does help to make up for smaller muscles, etc.

And that power was on full display as I joined the others. Every boy's head instantly swiveled to check me out. There were about a half-dozen guys there and I was acutely aware of how scanty my bikini was.