Page 75 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

‘Of course.’

‘So I wondered why Max brought a non-uniform item of clothing with him today.’

A non-uniform item?

‘Do you mean the red petticoat?’

‘You knew about this,’ said the head. ‘It is not an appropriate item for a boy to be bringing into school.’

Taylor thought for a moment. She still wasn’t sure why Max had wanted to make the petticoat and couldn’t understand for the life of her why he’d packed it in his school bag, but the head’s tone seemed to be implying that if a girl had brought the petticoat in, that would be acceptable.

‘Are you saying it would have been okay if he’d been a girl? Because I’d hope that as a headteacher, you’d be a little less sexist and a little more broad-minded than that. This is the twenty-first century, and if my son happens to be transgender, I’d like to think his primary school would give him their full support, rather than blame him when the little thugs he has the misfortune to be in the same class with decide to beat him up.’

She was aware that she was shouting. And at some point, she wasn’t sure when, she had risen to her feet and was looming over the desk in a way that might be deemed threatening. She took a deep breath, and plonked herself down again in the chair.

‘I wasn’t saying that at all, Ms Sweet,’ said the head frostily. ‘We didn’t realise that Max was trans.’

‘No, well. I don’t know for sure,’ said Taylor. ‘He might not be. He wanted to make a petticoat so I let him. I never dreamt he’d bring it to school.’

‘It seems the other boys found it and began to tease him. And you can understand that really. I mean, boys will be boys. Well, some boys will be boys.’

‘Are you trying to be funny?’ Taylor was fuming. If she were a cartoon character, she thought suddenly, there would be steam coming out of her ears right now. She wanted to bare her teeth at this woman before her. How could you be a headteacher and be so uncaring towards the children in your school? She’d acted like Max was a thorn in her side since the minute he’d started in Reception class. ‘It feels to me like you’re always making excuses for my son being ill-treated by the other children. Like it’s okay to tease him, to bully him, because he’s different or he lacks social skills or he’s brought a skirt to school. He was in hospital the other week because Jordan pushed him off the climbing frame, but was anything done about that?’

‘I did have very stern words with Jordan’s parents, I can assure you.’

‘Stern words? Seriously? That was it. No wonder nothing changes. Max is miserable here. Miserable. Always has been. So I’m going to do what I should have done long ago. I’m moving him to Hebbleswick Primary. I’m sure he’ll be much happier.’

Actually, she wasn’t sure at all.

She should have checked with Max first, she thought as she left the office, slamming the door behind her.

And checked Hebbleswick Primary actually had a place available in Year 4.

And she should probably have thought it through a bit too. They’d be moving back to Essendale soon, so she’d be saddling herself with doing the school run on the train every day again, only this time in the opposite direction.

‘Come on, Max,’ she said, grabbing his hand and practically yanking him down the corridor in her haste to get them both out of there. ‘We’re going home.’

It was a couple of hours before Max told her what had happened. The class were getting changed for PE and Max had accidentally pulled out the red petticoat. One of the boys had got hold of it and held it up and the whole class had laughed about it. The teacher had made Max put it away. Then later, at playtime, one of the boys must have got it out of his bag, and they started running round the playground with it. Max tried to get it back and they turned on him, punching him in the nose. Amazingly, the petticoat had survived intact, but Taylor wasn’t sure she’d be able to get all the bloodstains out of Max’s shirt.

‘Is it ruined, Mum?’ he said.

‘Probably, but don’t you worry about that. In any case, you’ll be needing some new shirts. Now don’t be cross with me, but I’m not sending you back to Essendale Primary. I’m enrolling you at Hebbleswick. And I know you hate change and I know you worry it might be just as bad, but you need a fresh start. Are you cross, Max?’

‘But we’re moving back to Essendale. And I’ll be going to school in Hebbleswick?’

‘Yeah. Mad, I know, but I think it’s for the best. What d’you think?’

‘Will we be getting the train every day?’

‘Yep. That’s the idea.’

‘It sounds absolutely perfect,’ said Max.

Taylor sighed. She couldn’t believe he’d taken it so well, but the prospect of two daily train rides had clearly softened the blow. ‘Max, can I ask you something? And I want you to tell me the truth. Because I love you no matter what – you know that. Why did you want to make a petticoat? And why did you take it to school? You might have known that if the boys found it, it’d be another excuse to tease you.’

Max sighed. ‘Now promise me that you won’t be cross.’

‘Promise.’