Set Her Free

Harry Styles has known something is wrong with him for most of his life. He's wicked smart and really nice, but people don't hang out with him. He gets called 'gay' on a daily basis, although he doesn't know what that means until third grade. He gets called 'weak' when he plays sports, because he's not good at them. He spends too much time looking at the cheerleaders. But it's not because he wants them. He wants to be one of them.

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8. Some Things About The Other Lads Harriet Would Be Better Off Not Knowing

(I am not saying, implying nor in any indirect way, shape or form stating that anyone in One Direction actually thinks, acts, or says any of this. This is just to demonstrate some of the things trans people sometimes have to go through.)

The conversation itself had started out okay. Niall had finished his story that had bored Liam to death, and now Liam was giving them an overall summary of Niall's soliloquy. It was just some stupid thing about the blond and this girl he found outside the bleachers at school. Moving on.

Now Louis was telling them a tale of what happened this one time during the break of a drama practice. Harriet wasn't really listening to the story so much as she was listening to Louis' voice.

It was no wonder he usually got the lead singing parts in the school's musicals. The way it flowed, moved up or down on certain words. By this time Harriet had gotten quite used to it's not-very-deepness, so she was able to fully appreciate it's beautiful cadence. It was nice, it was pretty, it was whatever Louis made it to be. Which was probably Harriet's favorite part about it.

Once she got over that, Liam was speaking now, in the middle of a laugh.

"Damn, Louis," He wheezed, his eyes squeezed shut. "What did you have to say to her?"

"To get the fuck out of my dressing room before I kick her dumb ass. " Louis smirked, nudging Liam's arm. "I swear, though, I bet you a million bucks that she was actually pretending to be me in there."

Niall snorted. "What if she was one of those girls that pretend like they're guys? Like, not just you, but like actual guys." Liam made a disgusted face.

Let's pretend that Harriet had a meter, like you see when the machine is going to blow up in cartoons. The green means she had a lot of hope that one day people (i.e.-her friends) would accept her for the girl she really was. Before this conversation it had been high in the green. At this comment, it sank a little.

"Ew." Liam pretended to gag. "Those...things...what are they called?"

"Transgender." Harriet blurted, her breath catching as she realized what she just said. SHIT! But if anyone noticed, they were hiding it well.

"Yeah, Harry, that's it, those trans-freaks. God." Liam fake-gagged again. "I mean, how the hell do they have sex? Where does it go, if they even have anything?" Niall had laughed again. Harriet tried her very best to conceal how hurt she felt. The meter went down to the middle of the yellow section.

"Hey, guys, come on." Louis had spoken up, and the meter teetered on the edge of going back up. "Maybe they're just confused over what they like. Plus, I mean, have you ever seen ladyboy porn?"

Now the meter sank so it was on the edges of the red, which was the color of Harriet's face at the moment. Each of the boys, not including Zayn, had turned to see if she was blushing at that comment, and had laughed when they discovered that, indeed, she was.

They were interrupted with the arrival of their food, which Zayn put his iPod away for. Now they were each not talking, too busy enjoying their meal. It wasn't until Harriet was midway through her crepe that the black-haired boy finally spoke up. Liam had just asked his opinion on 'those freaks that think they're the opposite sex'.

Again Harriet's meter went down.

"Meh." Zayn shrugged, twirling his fork on his now-empty plate. "If they think so, they think so. It doesn't really matter what we think as long as people are happy."

Niall made a joke about Zayn being all mellow and then the subject was switched.

But what Zayn didn't realize was that Harriet's meter had just surged back up to the very top-for him. She hadn't known at all that that was how Zayn really thought about people. If she had, she might have asked him for help much earlier. He might have given Harriet some hope that the girl she really was would be able to come out somehow.

Let's pretend she had four separate measures, for each of the boys.

Liam would be in the middle of the red.

Niall would be at the upper section of the red.

Louis would be at the middle of the yellow.

And Zayn would be in the green.

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