Chapter Text
The first time that Max feels that something, that everything-is-wrong feeling, she is in kindergarten.
The teacher had allowed them a few more minutes of playtime, and 5 year olds were running rampant through the fenced off area that was their courtyard. There was a much larger play area, outside the fence, but that was for the big kids that were in actual grades.
Max was sat down on the fake grass with a variety of toys. There were blocks and trucks, but the main thing she was focused on was the Barbie that she had snuck. It had freckles and a pretty green dress with tiny white dots. It was a redhead, just like Max, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. The girl (who wasn't actually a girl at the time) wished that she would look like that one day.
All of a sudden, her vision was filled with the red skirt that the teacher had worn today. It reminded her of the colour of strawberries. The Barbie (who she had named Maxine) was snatched away from her. Max felt a protest bubbling up her throat, but before she could get a word out, the teacher started blabbing about "This is a girls toy!" and "Wouldn't you rather play with this nice truck instead?" So, a shiny yellow pickup was put into her hands before she was ushered inside along with the rest of the kids.
Max remembers, years later, feeling a sort of pit open up in her stomach that day. When something bad happens, she feels it cracking and growing wider. That feeling washes over her and it's terrible. It feels like everything is wrong, like she is wrong.
And so, that day, Max feels wrong for the first time.
---
She had just wanted a yellow sundress. That was it. Max is in 2nd grade, sitting in the backseat of her father's car, studying the leather with flushed cheeks.
About 30 minutes earlier, she had been excited beyond belief. Her dad was taking her back to school clothes shopping. This was huge, because he didn't spend a lot of time with Max, and she hated only hearing him was when the arguments were loud and the voices leaked through the thin walls.
They had walked around the mall for a bit, buying pastel t-shirts (Max's request) and a pair of overalls. They eventually got hungry and had grabbed something from the food court. Calling it a day, her and her dad started to head out, and that's when Max saw it.
The dress was beautiful beyond words. She had actually stopped cold when she spotted it in the shop window. It was a pale yellow, with white frills decorating the ends. Simple to some, mind blowing to Max.
She literally started to beg for it, but when her father had saw it, a look of disgust crossed his face. He turned to Max angrily. "You really think you can get this?" He demanded. He grabbed her hand and started to drag her out. "No son of mine is a fag." He had spat. Max was close to tears at this point, and she could feel the pit opening up in her stomach. The "I-am-wrong" feeling flooded her brain.
And now here she sat, frustrated and quietly crying. Why am I like this? she wondered. Why can't I just be a normal boy?
Unsurprisingly, no one answered her.
---
Dull shades of auburn fell to the floor. This wasn't fair. None of this is fair.
Max had been visiting her dad. She was in 5th grade now. The divorce had just been finalized and now she was being tossed back and forth like a hot potato. She still wished she could've just stayed with her Mom, but there had been shouting and banging and then there was an agreement that Max would go to her dad's new house once a month.
She didn't hate her dad, she could never, but she never felt particularly.. happy around him. He was stiff and cold and always smelled like the gross drink Mom sometimes drank after long shifts. So, she hadn't expected a joyful visit.
Her dad had some work things over the past few months, so Max wasn't there. In the meantime, Mom had let her grow out her hair, and now it was shoulder length. If she squinted in the mirror, she sort of looked like a girl.
So, the first time her father had seen her with long-ish hair, he rushed Max to the nearest hair salon and ordered for it all to be chopped off. So, the barber and gotten scissors and her long hair was gone. And she looked like a boy again. She felt like crying.
All of the care that she had put into that hair, it was gone. Max supposed that her hair would be short forever if her dad had anything to do with it. He probably wouldn't even care that she wanted her name to be 'Maxine', even though she still preferred Max.
So, in the back of his truck, not for the first time, she mourned the loss of Maxine.