Chapter Text
It was a sunny July afternoon, the beach was nearly empty, the waves were the perfect swimming height, the Jamaican sun was generous on the British family’s virgin skin.
The sweet smell of salt wafted from the ocean. Mixing elegantly with the tangy taste of fish that filled the air from a nearby fishing boat.
Waves crashed against each other, seagulls squaked and beside his sunbathing mother, Kydan began to speak.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the difference between boys and girls?”
Mrs. Howell sat up and readjusted her large circular sunglasses. She was used to the four year old’s random questions but never have they been so… plain.
“Well…” She bite her lip, knowing she couldn’t go straight into what’s under somebody’s britches. This was a child after all. “Boys have short hair and girls have long hair.”
Kydan’s eyes widened and his head cocked. “So if I cut my hair I can be a boy?”
“No… yes.” Mrs. Howell cringed. She had gotten it all wrong.
“Let’s do that right now!” Kydan declared, he grabbed her mother’s purse and rifled through it. Mommy said nail files shorten things, there must be one in here.
“Why would you want to be a boy sweetheart? Boys are gross.”
Kydan shook his head, his light brown curls shaking. “Girls are gross. Dylan says they have cooties.” The toddler stuck out his tongue at the very thought.
Mrs. Howell sighed, of course Dylan, the oldest son nearing his 12th birthday, would say that.
“But you’re a girl. That means you have cooties.”
The child laughed at such a promiscuous thought. He finally located the file in a small case with a mirror and bright tan powder.
“No silly. I’m a boy.” And with a single movement he grabbed a lock of hair and began to saw it away.
“Kydan James Howell!” His mother snapped and ripped the file from his grasp. She tossed it back in her purse and held the child’s wrist in a tight grip. “Never do that again! You are a girl! You’ll see later on in life!”
With that she let go and watched as her baby’s eyes filled with tears. He scampered off towards where his brother was building a sandcastle. Sobs wracking his small body.
Mrs. Howell sighed and buried her head in her hands. Her daughter would see soon as puberty hit. A girl cannot be a boy. That’s just how the world works