“Huh. I thought I was just bad at this.” The boy lowers his free leg and attempts a two-foot glide. Still wobbly.
He turns toward me, and I glance at the skate-school sticker on his University of Minnesota sweatshirt:
HELLO, MY NAME IS
HAYDEN
I knew it!
Hayden is white, and he seems about my age, maybe a bit older. Taller than me, too, by several inches. Mom would call him lanky. My hair sticks out if I don’t keep it super short or long enough for gravity to take over. Hayden’s blond hair lies naturally around his ears, falling just above his eyes.
It’s hard to believe he used to have a girl’s name. Or used to be a girl? I’m not totally sure how that works, but Hayden looks like any other boy I’ve ever seen, so that’s how I’ll treat him.
He turns toward the rental counter. “You think I should ask for smaller skates?”
I have just enough time to count six small freckles on the bridge of his nose before his gaze shifts. Now we’re looking right at each other.
“Let’s try tightening them to see if that helps.” Caught staring, I drop my voice to a mumble, but Hayden seems to have heard. He follows as I zip over to the boards. When I turn back, he’s still march-glide-marching his way over to me.
“Wow, you’re fast.” His eyebrows rise, disappearing under his hair. “How long have you been skating?”
His voice is deeper than mine, but not by a ton. I clear my throat. “A… while.”
I answered automatically when Hope asked what jumps I can do. With Hayden, it’s hard to finish a full sentence for some reason.
He takes a seat in the hockey penalty box so I can re-lace his rental skates. The leather doesn’t offer much support, but I don’t think that’s the issue.
“My family just moved here.” Hayden shifts so I have better access to his second skate. “Most guys played hockey back in Minnesota. I wanted to do that, too, but Oakland’s league coach said I needed to learn basic skating skills first. Do you live near the rink?”
I look up at him. Boys don’t usually go out of their way to include me in conversations. The ones I train with are high school age or older. They’re all focused on their own skating.
“I live in San Francisco, but it doesn’t take that long to get here.” I tighten the bow on his second skate. “See how you feel now, but I think they’re probably still too big.”
Hayden seems better balanced when he rejoins Jen’s group. They’ve moved on from one-foot glides to backward skating in our absence. Hayden and I don’t talk for the rest of class, but he grins at me whenever our eyes happen to meet.
Corinne blows a whistle to end classes. I follow Jen to the exit, making sure everyone gets off safely. An older girl with hair dyed a tropical blue green waits by the door.
Hayden heads to her, then waves me over.
“No broken bones? Injuries requiring stitches?” Hayden shakes his head, and the girl pats his shoulder. “Awesome. Congrats for not dying. Mom’ll be thrilled. Dad, too.”
Hayden rolls his eyes, then turns to me. “This is my sister, Cynthia.”
“Cyn,” she corrects, extending a hand. I shake it.
“I was teetering all over the place until Alex helped me with my skates.” Hayden nods toward me.
… Alex?
I look over my shoulder. Scan the rink to be sure. Alex left hours ago.
And how does Hayden even know Alex’s… wait.
I look down at my jacket. The letters are upside down, but the error is obvious. There are four letters on my badge.
I open my mouth. No words come out.
“I still don’t think Mom and Dad want you losing all your teeth playing hockey.” Hayden dodges as Cyn tries to tousle his hair. Neither of them seems to notice my silence.
“Yeah, well, Alex skates, and I don’t see him missing any teeth.” Hayden looks at me expectantly.
Boy pronouns. My short hair. Black boot covers over my white skates.
He thinks I’m a boy named Alex. They both do.
This is an easy fix. All I have to do is explain how I grabbed the wrong name tag. Except I’m not even sure if I want to say anything.
The shock is wearing off, but it still takes a second to offer the toothy smile Hayden seems to want.
“See? All there.”
I laugh as Hayden thrusts his index finger at me and Cyn shakes her head. After a week of Miss Lydia’s “princess-this” and “damsel-that,” being seen as a boy settles my discomfort better than a ginger tab.
“Anyway, nice to meet you, Alex.” Hayden waves again as he and Cyn head toward a bench.
“You too!”
I head back to Jen’s section of ice, still smiling. As I glide up to the boards, she grabs her clipboard from the ledge. “Nice job helping that kid with his skate problem.” She flips to the next attendance sheet, then glances at me, eyes dropping to my name tag. “Alex?”
My whole face heats up as I follow her gaze. “I guess I grabbed the wrong badge.”
“No big.” Jen waves over her next batch of students. “Might want to take it off for the rest of the night so you don’t confuse anyone, though, myself included.”
“Because I look so much like Alex.”
As Jen takes attendance for her next class, I slip the name tag into my pocket. I’ll set the record straight with Hayden next week.
Until then, I plan to enjoy the fact that not everyone I meet takes one look at me and automatically assumes I’m a girl.
Chapter Eleven
It’s a rare warm Saturday in Golden Gate Park. Beach towels below us, blue skies above. Tamar and I eat lunch while Mom and Mrs. Naftali chat behind us under the shade of a redwood tree.
“What do you think?” Tamar hands her phone to me, just as a gust of wind blows her hair into her eyes. She collects her tangled
