Mary stepped out of the shower. Her clear blue eyes penetrated the reflection staring back at her from the foggy mirror. She couldn’t control the proud grin that slyly upturned the corners of her pink lips; unlike most of her friends, she knew that she was beautiful. She studied the curve of her breasts critically. Most girls would be pleased at how they filled out her bra but Mary considered them a nuisance. They never fit into her clothes the way she wanted them to. She reached into her closet and pulled out her Gap jeans. They fit loosely around her slender hips, more loosely, Mary knew, than any of her friends’ would ever wear their pants. Then came the shirt. Her mother had long noted her daughter’s fondness for blouses. Mary couldn’t help scoffing at that. She had bought every “blouse” she owned in the men’s department, not that her parents ever noticed the “Monsieur” tag sticking out of the purple-striped shirt she held in front of her. Purple wasn’t her favourite colour but she knew that the vertical stripes did her tall frame justice. She stuck an arm into one of the sleeves and felt the material stretch on her bulky shoulders. Mary gave her reflection a cocky wink; all that working out was finally making a difference. Her MSN blinked annoyingly. Everyone seemed to be online that morning on her friends list except the only one she wanted to talk to: rainboprincess. “Fuck,” she murmured quietly. Even though she was going to meet her, she couldn’t help missing her pretty-eyed friend. She paused a moment, changing her name to Marty Lookin’ for Sarah. Her parents never came into her room to see the extra-T she added to her name on the Internet. Her mother was too busy to notice that her daughter’s screensaver was of k. d. lang. But if they had ever bothered to ask she would reply that it was her favourite musician. That was as true as the real reason the woman filled the background of her computer. She slipped out of her room and crept quietly down the hall to her parents’ room. After assuring herself that her snoring father was actually asleep, she ducked into the adjoining bathroom. She opened the cabinet above the sink and reached for what she was looking for, desperately hoping the door wouldn’t screech as it had a tendency to. Luckily, it closed quietly and Mary squeezed some of the precious substance onto her palm: her father’s hair gel. She massaged it into her short chestnut hair. She was an expert; in merely three minutes, her hair was spiked to perfection. She snuck back into her own room to grab the final touch: her red silk tie. As she stared again at her own reflection smirking back at her, she couldn’t help wishing that she could always dress like this, even in front of her parents. With a quick wink to the wooden cross that was nailed above her mirror, she had to admit that it was impossible. Her next task was to reach the main floor and door without waking her father. Her mother was out shopping that morning, saving Mary the trouble of avoiding both of them. She ran down the creaking stairs, pausing to glance quickly in at her father, sprawled on her parents’ bed. She opened the front door and was about to rush out when she heard her mother’s gentle voice float ominously towards her from the kitchen. Every muscle in Mary’s body tensed.

“Where are you going, princess?” Her mother wandered out, drying her perfectly manicured fingers on an immaculate dishtowel and came face to face with her daughter. Mary’s assertive blue eyes tore through her mother’s astounded gaze.

“Never call me princess,” she whispered as she ran out to meet her girlfriend.