bedroom
light with her hand. "What do you want then?"

Her mother sighed in frustration. "Please, just come down."

By the time Faye walked into the lounge, the television was off. Her
parents were sitting in silence, staring at the fireplace. It was
still covered in cards wishing Faye a happy birthday.

"Please, sit down, dear," suggested her mother.

Faye sat down on the couch, facing both her parents. They looked
solemn, like the time her uncle had died.

Her mother cleared her throat. "You know how you're... different from
the other girls?"

"I don't like Helen Fryer as much," suggested Faye.

"Not that." Her mother sounded frustrated again now.

"Your body," said her father, almost apologetically. "You know, the
reason you work on your algebra while your friends have their swimming
lessons."

"Oh." Faye suddenly realised what they were getting at. "_That_."
She looked down at the shag carpet.

Years ago, her parents had sat her down for a similar talk. They had
told her about how all babies have thorough medical checks these days,
ever since the government worked out that prevention was cheaper than
cure. When she'd had hers, the high definition MRI scan had apparently
revealed that she was a perfectly healthy baby girl--despite her body
giving her the appearance of a perfectly healthy baby boy.

It was an age old condition, her parents had told her. In a funny sort
of way, they'd said, she was lucky to have been born when she was. As
recently as a few decades earlier, people with her medical issue had to
work it out for themselves after decades and sometimes even lifetimes
of mental anguish. Nowadays it was something your doctor told your
parents at birth.

"I know you don't exactly like your body," said her father.

"I look like a freak," muttered Faye.

"That's not true," said her mother sharply. "You look just as lovely
as any of your friends."

Faye didn't say anything. It simply wasn't true. Karen and Sarah and
Louise all had to start wearing training bras this year, and here she
was with a flat chest and an unsightly bulge in her knickers. It was
hideous. Her skin crawled just thinking about it.

"Those pills you're taking are just a temporary measure," her mother
continued. "They're delaying your puberty, but you can't take them
forever." Her mother's voice became unusually soft and quiet. "You're
going to have to make a choice."

"What kind of choice?" asked