Cherry Blossoms
By Beck O’Leary
(CW: Contains significant transphobia and gun violence in a school setting)
The dress had a sweetheart neckline and delicate satiny sleeves that rested just off the mannequin’s shoulders. The bodice was white and fitted, and the skirt was padded by at least two layers of ruffled lining. Little pink flowers decorated the skirt, sparse at the waist, then more and more crowded until the last few inches above the hem were entirely saturated with pink. Cherry blossoms.
Andie couldn’t stop staring. Her fingers itched to reach out and feel the silky fabric between her fingertips. What would it feel like against her skin? Would the gauzy lining itch against her bare legs or would it be gentle as a whisper? How would she—
Bzzt.
She flinched. Reached up to touch her temple. The chip embedded in her skin tingled with the aftereffect of the shock. It had been a small one. A warning.
“Andrew?”
Even without looking, Andie could hear the forced smile in her mother’s voice. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and adopted her best scowl as she turned around. “What?”
“What are you doing in the women’s section, honey?” Her mom’s eyes flicked over Andie’s shoulder, no doubt to see what she’d been admiring.
Shopping with her mom had never been Andie’s favorite pastime, but it had been absolute hell ever since she’d gotten her chip. Before, she’d been able to pass off her interest in women’s clothes as an interest in fashion. Plenty of men went into fashion. She’d even asked to be signed up for art classes at the community center and started keeping a sketchbook full of color palates and design ideas. But then came the “anonymous” report (it had been Vice Principal Atkins, she would stake her life on it), and then the chip. And now her mom got freaked if she wandered even three feet from the men’s section.
“For Christ’s sake,” Andie groaned with a practiced roll of her eyes. “I told you, Cassia’s been looking for something pink and flouncy, I was gonna take a picture for her.” Cassia had found her dress three weeks before, but her mom didn’t need to know that.
Her mom’s expression softened into something resembling relief, and she nodded. “That’s very sweet of you, dear.”
“Yeah, I’m a fucking prince,” Andie muttered. She dug her phone out of her pocket and snapped a photo of the dress. “Can we go now?”
“Almost, I still need to stop in housewares.” A pause, then the forced cheer was back. “Come with me! You can help me pick out our new bath towels.”
Yeah, better get the freak away from the dresses, or else he might start thinking he’s a girl again.
Bzzt.
The tie was like a noose around Andie’s neck. A silken noose. Pale purple, to match Cassia’s dress. The boutonniere was purple too, pinned to the lapel of the jet-black suit she’d borrowed from her older brother. He’d worn it to his prom three years before. Andie wondered if he’d felt like he was choking too.
She tied her hair back from her face and combed it into something sufficiently neat. Her mom had tried to force her to get it cut, but Andie had pointed out that it was still within the permissible range of length for a high school boy, and when that didn’t work, she’d threatened not to go to prom at all. Her mother had begrudgingly backed down.
Tradition dictated that they gather on the front lawn of Vonnegut High School before heading inside, so parents could coo and take pictures and gossip about how they couldn’t believe that so-and-so’s mother had allowed her to leave the house wearing so little. Andie and Cassia arranged themselves into a variety of poses, and after enduring the requisite number of photos and weepy declarations about how handsome and beautiful they each were, they fell into line outside the gymnasium. Cassia adjusted the flowers in Andie’s boutonniere while they waited.
“You look very pretty,” she whispered.
Bzzt. They both winced.
“Sorry,” she said.
Andie took Cassia’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Don’t be.” She glanced down the length of the line. “Have you seen Harrison yet?”
Cassia shook her head. “Did he ever say whether he was coming?”
“Nope,” Andie said. In fact, her best friend had grown quiet every time the subject of prom was mentioned. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d decided to opt out of the whole charade, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. He had a chip too, though he’d never told her what it was for. She supposed it was none of her business.
Vice Principal Atkins stood outside the doors to the gym, her steel grey eyes poised to catch any sign of wrongdoing amongst the students as they filed inside. Each student paused to scan their fingerprints before they were allowed in, to make sure their attire matched that of the gender listed in their file. Dates from other schools had to show ID, or else be escorted to the bathroom for a physical inspection. Armed security guards stood at the ready, hands resting atop their holsters. To protect the students, they’d been told.
Vice Principal Atkins offered Andie a smug smile as she and Cassia scanned their fingerprints. She had lipstick on her teeth.
“Good evening, Andrew,” she said. “My, don’t you look handsome.”
Andie clenched her jaw, and Cassia squeezed her hand. They both nodded to Vice Principal Atkins as they walked into the gym.
Vonnegut High couldn’t afford to host their prom at a hotel or aquarium like some of the fancier schools in the area, but the prom committee had done their best to transform the gym into an enchanted ballroom complete with streamers, string lights, and gallons of floral air freshener to mask the lingering odor of stale sweat. The DJ was already onstage, trying to coax students to the dance floor with sanitized remixes of every overplayed pop song from the last five years. Most kids crowded around the makeshift bar, where an easel boasted a number of soft drinks and juices available free of charge.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Cassia said.
“Every little girl’s dream,” Andie said. She thought of the dress.
Bzzt.
They got drinks and stood against the wall, sipping lemonade and watching the room grow increasingly crowded. A few girls paused to compliment Cassia’s dress and hair, and Andie’s gut swirled with guilt at the realization that she’d said very little about her girlfriend’s appearance thus far.
This was unfair, because Cassia looked beautiful. Her lavender dress was strapless and hugged her curves in a way that was downright sinful, and her golden curls were twisted into an elaborate updo that must have taken hours. But instead of paying attention to Cassia, Andie was busy moping.
“I bet all of them wish they looked as gorgeous as you tonight,” Andie said as the gaggle of girls wandered off. She snaked an arm around Cassia’s waist and pulled her close. “I know I do.”
Cassia beamed. “Don’t get all sappy on me now,” she teased, though she clearly enjoyed the attention. She drained the rest of her lemonade and set the cup down, then took Andie’s hands. “Come on, we’re dancing.”
The dance floor had filled out some in the time they’d spent sipping their drinks. The mass of sweaty bodies had rendered the air freshener completely useless, but the music was loud enough that it seemed to dull the other senses. Andie let Cassia tug her into the crowd and spun her around before falling into an uncoordinated, flailing sort of dance that had her girlfriend howling with laughter. They passed three songs that way, focused entirely on each other and the movement of their bodies.
And then the music stopped.
The students groaned and looked around in confusion, until their collective attention was drawn to a commotion by the doors. Vice Principal Atkins’ voice, shrill and furious, rang out above the din. Murmurs spread through the crowd.
“Can you see anything?” Cassia was up on her tip toes, a hand on Andie’s shoulder for balance.
Andie opened her mouth to say no, she couldn’t see a thing, but then she did see something. A flurry of movement as a woman clambered up onto a table.
She was wearing the dress.
Heat flooded Andie’s cheeks as awe and envy washed over her in equal measure. She pushed through the crowd to get a closer look.
The woman’s hair was short, held back from her face with a pink headband dotted with pearls. A matching pearl necklace sat against her collarbone. And when she turned to face the crowd, everyone gasped to see blood staining the side of her intricately made-up face. Crimson dripped from her chin onto the gleaming white bodice.
It was Harrison.
Except, it wasn’t. Harrison had never stood so tall, had never smiled with such radiance. This was someone entirely new, and he was beautiful. She was beautiful.
And she had ripped the chip right out of her head.
“My name is Winona,” she declared. “And I am a woman.”
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. A dozen students winced in unison, Andie included.
Chaperones sprinted toward the table, and cherry blossoms swirled around Winona’s feet as she leapt onto another, and then another. She was heading for the stage.
Andie moved with her. Cassia’s hands were a vice on her arm, but she still surged forward, her eyes never leaving Winona.
“My name is Winona!” Winona landed on the next table with impossible grace. Her feet were bare. “And I have always been a woman!”
“Get him down!” Vice Principal Atkins shrieked.
Winona jumped onto the stage and seized the microphone from the DJ. She caught Andie’s eye in the crowd, and she gave her a brilliant, beaming smile.
“My name is Winona!” she cried, thrusting a fist into the air. “And I am your prom queen!”
Silence. Part of Andie wanted to applaud. Part of her wanted to cry. Instead, she stood with the rest of the students in stunned silence. No one moved or cheered or said a single word. And then—
BZZZZZZZT.
Sharp, searing pain, like someone drilling into her head with an electrified screw gun. That same dozen students doubled over and gripped their heads in agony. Andie’s knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Tears burned in her eyes, but even as Cassia pulled her close and tried to press Andie’s face against her stomach, she didn’t look away. Couldn’t look away. Her gaze remained locked on Winona.
The gunshot pierced through the haze of pain. Winona crumpled. She was dead before the last echoes of the shot faded from the gym.
The pain stopped. A dull throb was all that remained. The dozen students gasped and panted as they regained their composure. Someone stifled a sob. Andie remained on her knees, wrapped in Cassia’s shaking arms.
Vice Principal Atkins scurried onto the stage, accompanied by the two security guards. She picked up the microphone and held it at arm’s length, her nose wrinkled with disgust as she eyed the blood dripping from the handle. The DJ pulled a rag from his pocket. He took the microphone, wiped it clean, and handed it back to her.
“Oh, thank you,” Vice Principal Atkins said. “Boys and girls, we are terribly sorry for the disturbance. But we’ll have this cleaned up in just a moment. In the meantime, don’t forget to sign up for the raffle! This year’s prize is an iPhone 23. How exciting! All proceeds will go to support the prom committee to thank them for these beautiful decorations and ensure they can go on to make next year’s prom even better!”
There was a tepid round of applause.
Behind her, the two security guards grabbed Winona under her arms and dragged her off the stage. A few teachers ran up onto the stage and piled towels onto the puddle of blood. Andie rose to her feet and watched Winona, her bodice more red than white, as she was pulled through the doors and out of sight.
“Well, that’s better, isn’t it?” Vice Principal Atkins laughed. “Now, let’s get back to dancing! Have a wonderful night, everyone!”
She handed the microphone back to the DJ and left the stage, her high heels clacking against the shiny wood floor as she followed the security guards and Winona out the door.
“After all that excitement, let’s say we slow it down,” the DJ said. He clicked something on his laptop, and an old love song started playing.
The crowd grumbled back to life. Couples came together and began to sway in each other’s arms. Others filed off the dance floor and headed for the juice bar or raffle table.
Andie and Cassia stood frozen, still clinging to each other, at the edge of the dance floor. Andie’s heart was so high in her throat she feared she might choke on it.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to storm up onto the stage and seize the microphone and scream until the speakers exploded. She wanted to demand that they do something. That they care.
She breathed in deep through her nose. Cherry blossoms, overly sweet and artificial, with notes of sweat and blood. She adjusted her hold on Cassia and began to sway in time with the music. Cassia’s arms slid up to wrap around her neck.
And as they danced, Andie thought about bloodstained pearls and scarlet drops against white silk. She thought of the dress. Her dress.
Winona’s dress.
Bzzt.
Andie flinched, and Cassia’s arms tightened around her.
They kept dancing.
Beck O’Leary is an American writer living in Edinburgh. They have an MA in Creative Writing from Edinburgh Napier University and an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. They are passionate about queer storytelling and creating worlds where lesbians and trans kids get to be heroes too. When not writing the kinds of books they would have liked to read as a teenager, Beck can be found playing Dungeons & Dragons and snuggling with their idiot cat-son, Fitzroy.
Photo credit: Cherry blossoms by David Brooke Martin on Unsplash.
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