"Oh my ga-oh my ga-," she began to hyperventilate. "Sweetheart, what are you talking about. Yo- . . . You were . . . Are you saying you were raped? No, no, no. No, no---"

She held him tighter as tears streamed down her face.

"How- Why . . . are telling me that rapist was in our house yesterday?"

"Mom, you're squeezing the life out of me."

Amanda loosened her tight grip on her son.

"My poor baby. Are you okay? Oh honey, what happened?"

"Yes mom, I think I'm okay . . . well physically I am, and better than him. No, it didn't happen here. I ah, I went to the street fair and ended up at his house. He-he raped me there."

"What?!? H-how did you end up at his place? Why did you go home with a stranger? What did he do to you?"

"It's a long story mother. I'll try to explain, but please . . . just allow me to finish the whole story before you say anything. And please mom, please don't judge me. I know I have to give my testimony in court and do my part to put this guy away. But I will need 100% of your support in order to do it. I can't do it without you, Mom. Do I have your unjudgemental support?"

Through tears, his mother pledged to support her son. She nodded while replying, "Yes, yes, . . . of course, honey."

Marty then began to convey the story.

He started out by telling his mom all about how he'd always felt like an outcast, an outsider and how he'd always been the nerd that was picked on, made fun of, or ignored.

He then explained to her how he had made up his mind he was going to change his image by dieting and exercise and becoming more outgoing.

"That's what I was trying to do over the summer. I thought I could become someone that would no longer get picked on, no longer be an outcast if I only looked more like the cool, popular guys. But once the first day of school got here, I couldn't see enough change in my appearance and found I didn't have the courage, or ability to present myself as outgoing and confident. So I gave up and started my new school, the same old dorky, nobody I've always been."

"I'm sorry you've felt that way, son. You should have talked to me about this years ago, but what does all this have to do with you being . . . ?"

"Hang on mom, I'm getting there . . . I started school here the same person I was before and predictably I was picked on or ignored just as I was before. I kept thinking about what I could do to change things and become someone else. Well, last Friday I came up with an idea I thought might work. If I could pull it off it would be a way I could hide behind a disguise, pretend to be someone else and no one would recognize me or see me as a dorky guy not worthy of respect. I saw this as a way that would allow me to feel more confident, experience a few hours as something other than the wallflower that's only acknowledged when he's being picked on. Yesterday was the fall festival and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to conduct my experiment."

"So what did you do," his mom impatiently asked.

"Well, I decided I would go to the street fair as someone else and see how much better it would be to not be me for once."

Marty paused. He was terrified of continuing, but he knew he had to.

He took a deep breath, exhaled forcefully, then began to cautiously continue, "So, Saturday morning after you left . . . I - I got dressed up and went to the fair."

"Okay, and?"

"Mom, remember that TV show from a few years ago we saw about that transgender girl that starting high school as herself and-"

"Yeah, what are you saying? Are you trying to tell me you're trans?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Then what does yesterday be to do with, First Day?"

"Cause I went to the festival disguised . . . as a . . . a . . ."

His voice trailed off and his mom barely heard the last word, "girl."

"You didn't . . . What were you thin--," Marty's mom began to loudly respond before getting hold of herself.

She stopped mid-thought and in a soft, soothing voice she meekly apologized. "Sorry sweetie, I promised I wouldn't interrupt. Go on."

"Well, I was scared to death I would be recognized and made fun of, but at the same time, I was confident that no one around here had paid enough attention to me for that to even be possible. There's probably less than ten people at school that even knows my name. So, I was determined to go through with this, so I could see if life might be better fit me if I had been born a girl. I got dressed, put on a little makeup, and went to the festival. Here I was, out in public, pretending to be someone else, of the opposite gender too and before long I was having the best day of my life. Well . . . except for the attack."

What happened? How did it happen?"

Marty paused. Was he ready to get into the details with his mom? He took a deep breath and continued what he was saying, ignoring her question.

"Even after the attack, I was able to hang out with someone and it helped. I met a girl, Amy and her brother and some of her friends and it was still one of the best days of my life, regardless of, you know."

"No, I don't exactly know. You haven't explained that."

"I will, mom. I'll get to it, but can we talk about the rest of my day first? The good parts and what they might mean."

Amanda understood how difficult this had to be for her son and she knew not pressuring him was best. So, instead of pushing for details of the attack she asked a question.

"What was it that made Saturday so much better than any other time?"

"People treating me like I mattered, seeing me as someone other than something to push aside, to make fun of or just ignore. I spent the entire day pretending to be someone else and it was both the worst and best day of my life. A lot more good than bad though. People actually saw me, talked to me, wanted to hang out with me, even wanted to be my friend."

His Mom was speechless. She started out the window at the silhouetted autumn leaves gently cascading down onto the front lawn, not knowing what to say next.

Marty continued, "I still can't believe how amazing yesterday was. I was having a great time. I got so into the role I was playing that I allowed some guy to talk me into having lunch with him. It was nice having someone to talk to that seemed truly interested in me and what I had to say. We were almost done with our lunch when he spilled his drink on my dress."

"Wait, where did you get a dress?"

"Well, it was one of yours mom. I . . . I borrowed one of yours. Actually, um the same one you have on now."

"You know I'm not ver-. . . ," she stopped herself and changed what she was about to say. "That explains your reaction earlier, when you saw this dress."

"Yeah, exactly. At first I thought you knew and was trying to make me squirm."

"Did it work?"

"Wait, so, did you know-of course not. Mom. Come in, his is hard enough."

"Sorry, finish your story." Amanda looked down, searching for a stain on her favorite dress. "You said he spilled his drink on your, er-my dress. What happened then?" Once he spilled the drink on me, I freaked out. I knew you would be mad when you found out that I soiled one of your dresses. I was freaking out and about to come home when he offered to put it in his mom's fancy new super fast washer dryer combo unit and so I went around the block with him, to his house. He gave me something else to wear while your dress was washed, That's when he attacked me and knocked me out. When I woke up I was being raped."

"Oh my gawd. So he discovered you were a boy?"

"No Mom, I don't think he did. When I woke up he was trying to put," Marty paused, his hands were clammy, throat dry, his heart beating so hard he was sure it would explode.

Embarrassment spread across his face. His cheeks flushed red.

His mom could see the terror that gripped her son. She reached up and gently squeezed his shoulder to comfort him. Tears streaming down her own cheeks.

"Sweetie, you can tell me without judgement. It's okay. Just take your time."

Marty wiped his eyes and shook his head in acknowledgement.

"He um, he was trying to put his, his penis . . . in my mouth. My clothes were still on so no, I don't think he discovered anything. Mom, w-when I realized what was happening, my uh, my first reaction was to open my mouth and bite down. I had to stop him. I had to get him off me. When I bit down, he jerked away and my teeth ripped his skin. I think the bite was pretty deep cos there was blood, lots of blood . . . I don't think he'll ever rape anybody ever again. I don't think he'll be able to."

"Sweetheart, with the advances in medicine today, they'll most likely be able to repair his penis and unfortunately, he'll still have some use of it. You absolutely do have to help put him behind bars."

"But, Mom, everyone will know I was raped. We'll have to move again and you'll have to find another job. I can't live here with everyone knowing what happened. Coming forward is the right thing to do. I know this, but I don't think I can do it. I can't, mom, I just can't."

His mom sat silently for a minute before finally asking, "Son, did you give yourself a girl's name? Who did you tell people you were?"

"Your niece, Martina."

"Martina? That's a cute name. It's also the name of the beautiful little girl I used to babysit when I was your age. Now, I have an idea. Just hear me out."