Jo called the number. She had waited until nine, a nice sociable time, even though she had been sitting at the kitchen table holding the card, and her phone, since five. She drew circles in the condensation that had dropped from her glass onto the melamine tabletop. The phone rang enough times that she was about to hang up and then, as she took the phone from her ear, someone answered.

The conversation that followed was hard on her, apparently in order to win the scholarship she would have to prove academic excellence in the field of study, something she could easily do. She also needed to prove a decent grade and appropriate academic effort in her other classes. She needed to show extra curricular activities, something she could easily do. Finally, she had to prove 'economic hardship' not 'can't afford to live' hardship, just can't afford to pay for university. This she found hard. Her dad was a proud man, he didn't like handouts and he didn't like other people seeing his business. She had to persuade him to give her three years worth of tax summaries and bank account statements.

She sat with her head in her hands, her mum had crohn's disease, she hadn't worked for years and she had been constantly in and out of hospital since Jo could remember. Her dad did earn a decent wage but he was the sole earner in the family so it was all down to him.

Her mum came in and put the kettle on. "You going to your friend's house this morning?"

"Sorry, what was that?" She had been so distracted she hadn't heard what her mum had said.

"Getting your guitar back! It's an expensive instrument, I don't want you ignoring it." She said, vehemently.

"Yes mum." She said meekly. "Mum...?"

"What's wrong?" Her mum asked sharply over the noise of the boiling kettle.

"Do you think I could get copies or dad's income tax and bank statements for this application?"

Her mum sucked air through her teeth. "Not sure he'll like that. It's necessary is it?"

"Yeah, I can't apply without it." She said with a small pout.

"Hmmm, well, you run along to your friend's house and I'll see what I can do." Her mum patted her on the shoulder. "Run along, days a wastin'"

She gave her mum a hug and went to get changed into her running gear, might as well get some training in on the way over.

Susan's house was a few miles away, not far enough to break a sweat over if she ran her normal pace so she did speed training on the way, sprinting as hard as she could for as long as she could and then jogging slowly until she recovered. By the time she reached Susan's house she was drenched in sweat.

She knocked on the door and stood back panting. Susan answered and went to hug her before realising how wet she was. "Ew! You look like you ran a marathon!" She said recoiling before she entered the hug.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come bowling but… I don't think you're dressed for it!"

"Damn, I would have liked that, I didn't even bring my wallet though." She said, meaning it too.

"You could borrow some of my clothes, they might be a bit, erm, girly, for you."

"Yeah, I could, but I didn't bring enough money. I only ever take bus fare when I run." She said regretfully, she was willing to cross dress for a short time for the chance to hang out with Susan.

"Meh, my dad's paying. There's no way he would let my friends pay for themselves!" Susan assured her.

"Well, I'm super sweaty, I would stink the place out."

"We have a shower. Duh! Come on, if you're willing to borrow some clothes then I'll sort something out whilst you're in the shower."

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Susan was bundled into the house and up the stairs, Susan's bedroom had an ensuite bathroom which was bigger than Jo's family one!

She shooed her into the bathroom and handed her a clean towel.

"I'll set some clean clothes inside the door for you ready for when you get out. Promise I won't peek." Susan insisted.

Feeling a little flummoxed, Jo shut the door, noting the lack of a lock. She warily peeled off her wet running gear and turned on the shower. She stood self-consciously, waiting for the water to heat up in front of the huge mirror which covered the whole wall above the sink. She examined herself in the mirror, something she didn't really do very often as the mirrors at home were pretty tiny. She decided she liked what she saw, her muscles were defined and her skin glistened with sweat. She struck a bodybuilder pose and instantly looked round in case someone had seen.

The shower door started to fog up so she stepped in, it was closed on three sides so she actually felt pretty safe from prying eyes. Susans body wash and shampoo were on a ledge along with a scrunchy shower doodad, she used it to lather up, using as little of the expensive soaps as she could and then washed her hair. She stared at the razer hung in a little pink plastic holder and looked at her hairy legs, damn she hoped Susan didn't try and put her in a dress.

She rinsed all the soaps off and spent a minute enjoying the rain head on the shower before playing with the controls, the other showerhead had as much pressure as a firehose, it felt so good on her back. She stopped procrastinating and figured it was time to find out what girly shit she had to wear.

Turning off the water she peeked her head out of the shower, making sure she was alone.

There was a small pile of clothing just inside the door. She got out and toweled dry, eyeing the pile nervously. It had been a long time since she wore anything not purchased from the boys section.

Picking up the pile she found Susan had been thorough, there were even undies in the pile.

She pulled them out, they were white with red piping, small, hip high with a cherry on the front. She cringed and put them on, looking again at her reflection.

'Well Jo, you know what her knickers look like now!' She thought to herself. She picked up what looked like a bra, just with no support, she set it aside with a 'nope' and reapplied her nicotine patch and her silicone nipple covers. It was the only concession she normally gave to being a girl, otherwise it was embarrassing when it was cold.

She pulled on the white socks and form fitting blue jeans, then she picked up the t-shirt, it wasn't too bad, still a girl's cut but it was a well worn black REM t-shirt with gig dates on the back. She pulled it on and looked at herself again in the mirror.

Her biceps strained the cuffs of the tee, otherwise the girl staring back looked, normal, like a girl. She cringed and sat on the toilet. She breathed heavily, trying not to give up, to run away.

A knock came on the door and she opened it. Susan was standing with a plain black hoodie. Jo grabbed it and thew it on, causing Susan to take a step back in shock.

"Sorry," Jo started, "I have, issues."

"Want to sit down for a minute? Tell me about it?" Susan offered.

Jo looked at her for a bit, then decided it might be a good idea.

She sat on the edge of the bed and Susan sat beside her, "It's a kind of body dysmorphia." she began, "I look at myself dressed like a girl and I don't recognise myself in the mirror. It's not me staring back. People tell me 'oh your just trans' but I'm really not, I like being a girl, I just really really don't think I should look like one. It's like, some people say they were born with the wrong genitals but I just want to stay looking like I always have. Also, I don't like labels. Why can't people just be people without having to find a label for them, slot them into neat little boxes, trans, queer... butch almost fits but still feels wrong."

She slumped back on the bed. "It's why I run." Susan slowly lay down beside her and gave a questioning look.

"Someone told me a long time ago that skinny girls don't grow big tits. I was like, eight or something. I already had this problem with clothes and I had a dread, like a proper phobia of seeing myself with tits." She closed her eyes and shuddered. "I developed an eating problem, close to full on anorexia. Then I saw the runners on the tv. It might have been the commonwealth games or something and I thought, none of those girls have boobs, I could do that. So I did."

She opened her eyes and looked at Susan, "I don't know if it worked or if I never would have gotten them but I'm not stopping now. I'm sorry, it makes me sound like I'm insane sometimes, trying to explain my own stupid mental glitches."

"Hey, it's okay, you aren't mad, just different. Is that why you lift weights too?" Susan asked gently.

"Nah, that's the other woman's issue. Serious weightlifters don't get periods." She sighed, "at least not many. And when I do, I just double down on the work."

"That one I can understand." Susan agreed, "perhaps I should join you!"

"You would be welcome, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's a fucktonne of work for a lousy benefit."

She got up and pulled Susan to her feet. "Let's go bowling, I can manage."

Susan smiled and gave her the hug she had missed at the front doorstep.