Jerk of Hearts, Queen of Spades

________________________________Chapter 4

Homework had never been so difficult. Finally, he had agreed to let Dilton drop by and help him with it, though Algebra was normally a subject he did okay in on his own. They were on their fifth or sixth problem, with Dilton still trying to get through to him, when the shorter boy finally sighed and took off his glasses. "Okay," he gusted, pinching his nose. "You're preoccupied. Let's examine the source of this distraction so we may actually move on toward higher learning."

"Yeah. Dilton, what do you know about, um... guys who become girls?"

Dilton gave him a very, very sharp look once he'd replaced his spectacles. "Reggie, is there... something you want to talk about? Because I'm not really a qualified psychologist, so there has to be someone better suited for-"

"No, no," he blurted quickly, waving both hands in front of himself. "I'M not interested, at all, but- well, I dunno. I am wondering about it. It's a weird concept, you know?"

"Not so much these days," Dilton went on, still watching him like a hawk. "Some studies show that as much as eight percent of the world's population self-identify as something other than strictly male or female. Much though I am quite comfortable as a man, I can accept that, given those statistics, the gender binary is outdated and... well, dangerous."

"What do you mean, dangerous? How?"

"Let's take hermaphroditic births," he said, warming to the subject. "It's an astronomically low probability, about one in 70,000. But when this is encountered, the surgeon's knee-jerk reaction is to flip a coin and assign a gender on the spot. And a very high number of them are assigned incorrectly - and it's usually irreversible. Clearer picture?"

Reggie squinted at him as if he were the sun and he couldn't quite process the sheer amount of light. "Nnnnot really."

Dilton sighed, then nodded as if to himself. "Telling someone what they are, ESPECIALLY before they even know themselves, is ludicrous. Courts fight tooth and nail with those intersexed individuals seeking justice. But then again, the legality is irksome; there are many papers to be filed, many sacred legal documents to reshape and reprocess. Hence, it'd be far easier if they dissuade those people from their decision than to acknowledge them and rewrite history."

"Some of that sunk in, I think," he admitted, leaning back. "But that has to be awful for the people trying to get things changed."

"Sounds like it to me. Now, on with our work?"

Reggie couldn't concentrate any more than he could before, but eventually he was able to get through it. On his way out, Dilton reassured him that having an identity crisis was a normal part of adolescense - in the kind, coddling sort of way that told him he really thought Reggie wanted to trade boxers for lace. Miraculously, Reggie was able to resist tossing him bodily from his abode.

Sleep did not come easily that evening - even with yet another sleeping pill. He had a feeling he'd need those for a few more days before he'd gotten over the shock of Midge's condition. Even when he did sleep, he had dreams of Betty trying to sell him a salami, and Nancy wearing an iron chastity belt and telling him he wouldn't like what was inside.

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An apple core bounced off the trash can in front of Reggie as he passed. Looking up and still trying to balance his tray, he saw Moose staring glumly at the wall.

"Everything hunky dory, Moose ol' buddy?"

"D-uh, sure," he mumbled, picking up an empty pudding cup and attempting to make it join the apple. It did - on the floor.

"Come on," Reggie said, kicking his shoe. "Snap out of it. You'll find somebody new."

"Nuh-huh," he groaned. "Nobody like Midge. But she still won't talk t' me. I don't get what I did wrong, we was so good together..."

Reggie stared at his salisbury steak; it was getting cold. "Hang in there, pardner," he said heartily as he walked off, feeling oddly jumpy. He had barely time to open the milk carton before someone plunked down next to him.

"Fondled any half-men lately?"

"AAAH!" Reggie shouted. When he looked around the room, he found dozens of sets of eyes on him, curious. "Uhh... fell asleep. Sorry!"

"Nice cover," Midge whispered as everyone went back to their chatter. "This seat's not taken, is it?"

"That was stupid," he hissed at her as he stabbed his steak with a fork. "Somebody could have heard you."

"They didn't. And... I'm sorry, it was in poor taste. But I thought it might lighten the mood a little?"

Reggie gaped at her, thunderstruck. "Lighten the mood? I don't think a supernova would spruce up my darkening outlook."

"You're doing really well, you know," she said softly. "Keeping my secret, not driving off a cliff. Thanks, I really-"

"Save it, okay?" he snapped. "All it is, is that once upon a time, we were friends. Now, I dunno... I don't know if I can talk to you even. Or understand who you are, what you're doing. But, well... I can't imagine ratting on you. Not with something this big. So you're safe, but... give me a while."

A gentle shrug as she picked at the from-frozen vegetable medley in the corner of her tray. "Thought you said last night that you didn't mind talking to me. So here I am."

"Fine, let's talk." Reggie took a swig of his milk. "Moose says he doesn't know what he did wrong."

"Of course he doesn't. He's Moose. Hopefully, in a week or two, he'll finally understand." Midge thought for a moment. "He's kind of like the tortoise who raced the hare: he might not be too swift, but he almost always ends up at the right place if you give him long enough. And that's why I love him. God help me."

Reggie nodded. They both ate in silence for a while, mulling over different thought patterns. Then Reggie whispered, "Were you a.... herdafromite?"

For a scary moment, he thought Midge was going to choke; she did, in fact, scrabble at her throat for an instant before she was able to swallow her food. "Give a girl a heart attack, will you?!" she snapped. "Where did you even hear that word - or the actual word so you could repeat it incorrectly?"

"Nevermind that," he insisted. "Were you? I mean, from what I read, the operating doctor could have messed up and-"

"No," she assured him weakly. "That does happen, yes, but I was born with only one organ. It's still the wrong one, though."

"There's just so many things that don't make sense," he barrelled along, hardly deterred by this news. "Midge, I've seen you at the beach, in a bikini! You look great! Where do you keep- I mean, there's no way nobody would-"

"I have special panties and bikini bottoms," she said very quietly. "They have realistic padding, and they... obscure certain details. Not that it's 100% effective or anything, but it helps. The sets usually come with padded bras, too, but I'm pretty comfortable with my bust size."

"Are you, uh... using one now?"

Midge fluttered her eyelids at him with a wry smile. "Mr. Mantle, I do believe you asked what underwear I'm wearing. That's pillow talk."

"D-don't be- hey, that's not what I meant! Stop twisting things around!"

A slight chuckle before she shook her head at his red face. "Silly boy. But no, I am not using it today; I'm in a skirt, and anybody who looks up that will get a size-eight heel in their face before they see anything. Useful information for you if you want to check me... AGAIN."

That last part shamed him enough that he didn't feel so indignant anymore. "Okay, maybe I shouldn't have done that - THE SECOND TIME," he insisted. "The first time I was reacting to what I thought I felt. Can't blame a guy for flipping out, can you?"

"Well, curiosity killed the Mantle," she fired back, bumping his bicep with her elbow. "And believe me, if I could get rid of it right now, I would. Then things like this wouldn't happen."

The bell rang. Both of them got up and put their mostly-uneaten lunches away - ignoring Miss Beazley's disapproving stare - then started off for Miss Grundy's room; they were both in that class. As they walked, Reggie said in as low a voice as he could manage while still being heard in the noisy halls, "Why don't you? I mean, have it cut off. I'm sure that's a lot cheaper than the whole surgery. And then, when you save up, you could move on to the-"

"Are you kidding?" she gasped, scandalized. Then she cleared her throat. "No, you're not. Okay. See, I couldn't do that, because they'll need... oh, I'm not sure you'll want to hear this part."

"Just tell me," he insisted. "Then I'll have nightmares about it later, but they can't be any worse than the ones I've been having."

"If you say so. When the surgeon performs a vaginoplasty, most of the time, he, um... builds the new organ by using parts of the old one. The soft tissue and nerve endings are very crucial if you actually want to be able to feel anything down there at the end of it."

"Whoa, whoa," Reggie gusted, stopping dead where they were. "You mean your hoo-hah will be made of ding-dong?!"

"Keep your voice down!" she snapped. One quick visual sweep later, she whispered, "But that is what I mean, Mr. Eloquence. Sure, the penile inversion is only the most common way of doing it, but it's had the most success and is the least risky to the rest of your body."

He squirmed. "I don't like the idea of somebody using my junk as Legos."

"It's terrifying," she agreed. "But it's what I want. Once the surgery is over, I'll be who I'm supposed to be. Chances are I'll never have to go under the knife again from that point on."

"Please don't say 'under the knife' when we're talking about- about you-know-whats," he hissed, and she giggled. "So you're sure? This is really... you really are a guy who's going to be a girl, no matter what?"

The nod she gave reminded him of the one Betty would if anybody asked her whether Archie liked Veronica; grim, but completely certain in her knowledge. "I am."

"And... that's why you're not telling anybody. Because there's no point if you're just gonna get it taken care of someday."

"That's right." She bit her lip for a moment. "Dare I ask if this means... you hate me a little bit less than yesterday?"

He was loathe to admit it, but Reggie was starting to feel something he'd scarcely encountered in his life: empathy. "I guess. But let's get something straight here. The whole idea is still, I dunno... gross to me. Your looks and the way you act make a pretty strong case, but I don't know if I can ever wrap my head around it."

"I'm asking for you to be a friend, that's all," she whispered as they neared their classroom. "Not for you to join any protest groups or anything. And... I know I'm gross. But one day, I won't be."

She'd misconstrued Reggie's comment, and he felt an odd lurch. Unfortunately, then they were entering the classroom as the bell rang, and his chance to contradict her was lost.

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"So never judge a book by it's cover, or who you're going to love by your lover; Love put me wise to her love in disguise, she had the body of a Venus - Lord, imagine my surprise..."

Veronica folded her arms as she stepped back from her synthesizer, sighing. "Uhh, Reggie?"

"What?" Reggie griped. "My bass is perfectly in tune. Don't mouth off to me if your ears can't say the same."

Noticing the stony glare on Ronnie's face, Archie laughed to break some tension as he changed up his pedal tone. "We were supposed to be practicing 'Don't Worry Baby'. Aerosmith and Beach Boys are not the same."

"Thought you usually warmed up with Boston or Zep, anyway," Jughead put in, pushing up the brim of his crown beanie with a drumstick. "What's with this?"

"You know what?" he blustered, standing up and removing the strap from around his neck. "I don't even know why we're wasting our time on slick bubblegum-pop malarkey like Beach Boys, anyway!"

Then he was outside the garage, leaning against Archie's mailbox and wondering why he had even left. Of course, he did know why, but that didn't help him much. How could he begin to explain to anybody, even if he would let himself do it? It was a beautiful night; nice breeze, full moon. The sun had gone down scarcely an hour ago, but it already felt like midnight. Maybe he should just hang around outside and let it cool him off.

"You okay out here?"

It took everything Reggie had not to shout at Betty. "Fine. Just... leave me alone for a while."

"If it's any consolation, you were pulling off a mean Tom Hamilton for a minute."

Reggie turned around to thank her, but he instead found himself staring at Betty. She was just as beautiful, kind, outstanding as Midge. But somehow, Midge was more than she appeared to be. "It's messed up is what it is."

Betty's eyebrows knitted. "Huh?"

"We live in a simple world, don't we? Grow up, graduate, get a job, find a girl, settle down... have six or seven kids and a mortgage. Maybe you retire to Florida. That's what we're told, right?"

"Six or seven?!" Betty burst out. "Let me know who this 'lucky' lady is, and I'll help her escape the country before you get to her!"

"It's a load of spamola," he rambled on, despite Betty's wincing over his word choice there. "People get divorced, they... there are homeless, jobless, lonely people out there. They die young. Some of them... can't be with who they want because of... what people would think."

Her throat worked for a minute as she contemplated how to approach this. "Reggie... maybe you want a drink? There's some sodas in Archie's fridge, I could go grab-"

"I don't need a soda," he spat. Once he'd heard it come out, he sighed, gritting his teeth as he made himself let it go for the time being. There was absolutely no sense in taking pot shots at Betty when she was completely oblivious to the whole thing. "Nah. I think I just need to take off, get some sleep. Thanks, though."

"Sure. What do you, uh, want me to tell the band?"

Reggie smirked. "Tell them I feel so broke up, I wanna go home. Brian Wilson in there will understand."


________________________________To Be Continued...