Lacey Burgess, a department store worker and aspiring fashion designer, regularly encounters a particular father-child duo in the store. The child, a teenager, always seems unhappy around their father. The teen is a transgender girl, named Estella, and her father does not know this. If he knew, Estella just knows he would not support her and he would kick her out of the house. The story starts in Lacey's point of view, it's just a normal day in the store.

Another day, another shift at the department store. I adore my job and coworkers, but I aspire for something bigger and more creative soon; it's been two years of working here already. I'm studying and working to become a fashion designer with my own small shop one day. But do I get paid enough to deal with the rude, demanding customers and their outrageous behavior, especially around their children? Probably not.
          I often see a particular child and their father inside the store, whose faces I always recognize. The father is always berating his kid for something. The first time they came in while I was working here, he was yelling at his kid for supposedly "not being a good, Godly man." I always feel bad for the kid, seeing that they're never happy around their dad.
          Today, the duo came in again, the father again berating them for something: "Remember, Elijah. You are a boy, and we came here to get you guy's clothes so you don't keep looking like a girl when you're not one. If I see you in a dress again, you're getting a good talking-to to change your ways."

I knew exactly what he was referring to. I can't make any assumptions, but if it is what I think it is, it's the father being unaccepting and cold towards his child's gender identity, which I'm assuming the child is a trans girl. I could be wrong, but I know the feelings that kid was experiencing. Because I recently finished my transition.
          I was stocking shelves and racks with a new shipping of clothes we received earlier this morning when I saw the duo in the men's section. While stocking one rack, I overheard the father's lecture to his kid, who looked to be about sixteen now (fourteen at the time they first visited during my time working here): "School is starting soon, Elijah. You want some nice joggers, guys' jeans, tee-shirts, button-up shirts, or sweatshirts?"
          The kid shrugged, almost as if forced to agree. "Yeah sure, I guess so."
          "Okay then, let's look here. You see something you like, you tell me and bring it to me."
          "I will."
          "And it better not be from the women's section, either. If I see you sneak over there, you're done and we aren't coming back to this store. Either that or I'm not paying for it for you."
          "Kay."
          "I'm watching you, Elijah. If you're one of those trans things I read about and going against what God wants for you as a man, then I don't know what to tell ya."
          "Fine," the kid sighed. I could tell they were going through something.

When the dad was in another part of the men's section from the kid and I happened to be near the kid, I asked them, "do you need help finding anything?"
          "Hi," the kid said. "No thanks, I'm alright." They were about to cry, I could tell.
          "Okay," I said. "Let me know if you do, though."
          "Thanks," they nodded their head.
          I then continued my job of stocking as I saw the kid wander closer to the women's section, but still in part of the men's section. That's where the clothing was more androgynous, or somewhere in between. I never did like the fact that the clothes were separated by gender rather than type. Like one for tee shirts, one for sweatshirts and sweaters, one for jeans, one for dresses, and more. But anyways, I kept on checking on the kid to make sure they were safe. I never knew their name, just their face and their dad who was always mad at them.
          When the dad got back and saw them there, he almost got mad when he realized his kid was still in the men's section. "Don't scare me like that again, boy."

I wanted to punch him. But I kept my cool so I could keep my job while I was heading over to the register. When the kid and their dad got to the register with a small selection of clothing from where the kid was last, I overheard the dad say to the kid, "Pay for that for us while I go to the bathroom real quick? I better not find you in the women's. Okay?"
          "Okay," the kid sighed. Then it was their turn at the register. "Hi," they said to me.
          "Hey there! Did you find everything alright?"
          "Yeah, I guess."
          "Good. Do you have a rewards card or number?"
          "No. But what I really want is just a dress and some girls' clothes and long hair. My dad won't let me though."
          "I'm so sorry, kid– I get that feeling. What's your name?"
          "Estella. Can you use 'she' and 'her' for me, please?"
          "Of course! I don't want to sound weird or anything, but I did overhear your dad berating you for that. Does he know?"
          She shook her head, "no. If he did I'd be in big trouble. Long story."
          I gave her a sympathetic look, because I understand exactly what she's going through. "I get that, and I can tell you're in an unsafe place right now. If you ever need a dress or any women's clothes at all if it gets really bad, let me know the next time you visit, if it's safe of course. I'll fix you up somehow without him knowing."
          She smiled at me. "Thank you," she looked at my nametag, "Lacey. It means a lot. More than you could ever know."
          "You're very welcome, kiddo." She then paid for the clothing as her dad came back and dragged her outside to head back home.

Growing up, I never really had any trans figures I could look up to. I never saw any in the movies, TV, music, or, most importantly, the fashion design industry. I've been judged for wanting to be a fashion designer when I was younger because, well, I still presented as male back then and it was weird for a man to want to have any "feminine" job. As a trans woman now, I still want to be a fashion designer. And I know men can still do that job.
          Luckily, I have an accepting family who support me for who I am and for my identity. They were supportive from day one, and especially the day I came out to them when I was seventeen. Now Estella is that age, feeling unsafe to come out to her own father because he is unsupportive. I have no doubt that he is probably incredibly abusive and angry in almost every other way towards her. I don't want people like me to hate themselves. So I'm going to do what I can to help Estella live her truth safely.

Estella visited the store again a month later, this time with a friend instead of with her father. Although her hair was longer (or maybe wearing a wig; I did that when I was still closeted), I still recognized her face. Even through some simple, natural makeup. She looked genuinely happy, and was smiling brightly with her friend.
          That day, I was working in customer service. I happened to run into Estella and her friend in the women's section. "Do you two need help finding anything today?" I ask.
          "Hey Lacey!" Estella excitedly greeted me. "I'm trying to find myself a dress and shoes for my junior homecoming dance tomorrow night. What are your best recommendations?"
          "I have a lot, Estella! Follow me," I directed her and her friend.
          "Thank you so much!" she exclaimed. "I'm with my friend Mya today and tomorrow, staying the night at her place, for the dance. I want this to be a good time, even if it's just a few hours."
          "Yes, definitely," agreed Mya. "I bet it feels nice to not be here with your father, huh?"
          "So nice," Estella sighed with relief. "I don't have to be publicly embarrassed."
          We then arrived at the formal dress section, which was full of both simple and sparkling dresses both short and long of all colors. "I understand that," I agreed with the girls. "But here we are! Run wild, try on as much as you want, and come back to the register when you're ready. I'll be there."
          "Thank you! You're the best," said Mya. "Thanks for doing this for my best friend."
          "Yes, thank you! It means the world," agreed Estella.
          "Of course! Have fun."

I saw the friends having fun together, picking out all kinds of dresses and styles. Especially Estella admiring them and smiling. It was like the first time I've ever seen her experiencing gender euphoria. I couldn't be any happier for her. I was able to get more boxes and hangers of clothing to stock in the section, which was near the fitting rooms.
          Estella and Mya came out of the fitting rooms, both rocking matching but different-colored sequined dresses. Both the top and the skirt part were sequined, with silver belts in the middle. Estella's was purple, and Mya's was dark blue.
          "What do you think?" Estella excitedly asked, about ready to jump for joy.
          "You two look stunning! Definitely wear those at your dance tomorrow," I complimented them.
          "Thank you!!! We will get them. You in, Mya?"
          "I am! Thanks, Lacey!" exclaimed Mya.
          "No problem at all! Do you two have everything you need?"
          That's when the friends looked at each other in realization. "Shoes!" They exclaimed simultaneously.
          After changing back, they then followed me with their dresses to the small shoe section, where there was an aisle for heels. Estella's eyes went to a short pair of black heels with a silver belt connector on the straps. Mya's went to the same pair. I left them alone for a few minutes, but I did see them having fun. They tried them on and walked in the aisle like a fashion show runway.
          "Getting these?" Mya asked.
          "Of course!" Estella answered, nodding and jumping for joy. That's when they changed back into the shoes they came in with and headed to the register with their goodies. I took them there and applied discounts for both of them, each paying for their own clothes. After they paid, they gave enthusiastic "thank-you's" and waved "goodbye." But then I noticed them coming back into the store near the front register, where Estella held out her arms and asked, "can I give you a hug?"
          That's when I could see the connection, the true spark in her eyes from that connection she felt to me. And I felt it towards her too, she saw me as a friend, and the feeling is mutual. It meant so much. So I gave her a hug. It was a quick one, but she smiled and mouthed "thank you" to me on the way out of the store.

Even having such a strong positive impact on one customer satisfies one of my main goals of the job. But why does her deadname sound so familiar to me?

Estella's POV

After a life of living with my strict, controlling, and scary dad, it was refreshing to have such a good friendship with an amazing department store employee. I was able to find an excuse to go home with Mya tonight after school (I told my dad that I was going to her house to study for a big history test with her, and he believed it, surprisingly), so I did. Then after I settled my things at her place for the evening, she drove us to the store to find us our dresses and shoes for homecoming.
          It is true that we do have a history test on Monday, and that we are going to spend time making notes and studying together tomorrow morning before getting ready for the dance. But that's not all we're doing. When we arrived home, Mya and I discussed a plan for the dance without my dad catching me in a dress when he picks me up from it.
          "I have an idea," Mya started, "why don't I find you a suit you can change into before your dad comes and picks you up from the dance. We can wear our dresses there, and when you get changed I can take your dress with me, until we see each other again on Monday, so he doesn't see you in it or carrying it."
          I thought about it for a second. And I liked the idea. "That sounds good! What if he sees me in makeup and that wig you got for me though?"
          "Girl, I'll take care of that too. I'll bring makeup wipes, extra more "manly" or whatever shoes for you to change into. No worries," Mya assured me.
          I gave her a hug. "Thanks so much."
          "Oh, of course!"

Fast forward to the night of the dance. Mya and I arrived there in our almost-matching dresses, matching shoes, and sparkling makeup. I had a wig of wavy brown hair (which is also my natural hair color) on my head, which Mya gave me as a birthday present last year. I bobby-pinned my actual hair back, which is short, put a wig cap over it, then put my wig on which was surprisingly more comfortable than I thought.
          No one in school really cares that I'm trans; luckily the school is generally supportive. So no one was really surprised to see me in a wig, makeup, dress, and heels (different from my usual forced masculine appearance). With that in mind, Mya and I had the time of our lives dancing to the music, drinking soda, screaming the song lyrics, taking pictures together, and hyping each other up. It was the most comfortable I've ever felt, the most gender euphoria I've ever had. I decided to change into the suit and take off the wig and makeup half an hour before the dance ended at eleven pm so my dad wouldn't be suspicious of anything.
          When my dad came to pick me up at the end of the night, I hugged Mya "goodbye" and walked into dad's car with the dysphoria back now that I'm with him and not feeling myself anymore. I luckily went to bed satisfied with how it turned out overall. He didn't say anything about the night before I went to sleep, just took my phone like he always does before bed.

The next morning, however, my dad woke me up at eight in the morning with a serious, demeaning question: "Elijah, I was just looking through your debit card purchases on your bank app and saw something on there from Friday afternoon. What did you and Mya do the other day?"
          "Well," I started, nervous, "we did study like I said we would. But we also decided to go out and have some fun. You know, like friends my age do."
          "Hmm," he jabbed, "it says you went to the department store. What did you buy?"
          That's when I started to cry angrily. "Okay, fine! I'll tell you the truth. We were shopping for outfits for the homecoming dance, and the only reason you saw me in a suit was because Mya gave it to me to change into after the dance was over so you wouldn't see me in the dress and heels I bought!!!"
          He got visibly angry, gasping. "You bought a DRESS!? I thought you'd know better than that by now! Why are you pretending to be a girl when you're not!?"
          "Because I'm not pretending to be a girl! I AM one." The anger turned into sadness. "Even if I was a boy, they can still wear dresses and be no less of a man."
          He shook his head in disbelief and disappointment. "I can't believe you! You will pay for this. You can't just turn into a girl. You made the choice, you face the repercussions."
          "Dad, it's who I am! It's my identity, I did not choose to feel this way! If I had the choice I wouldn't be trans because of how much discrimination and hate they face from people like you!" I cried out. I've never been so scared in my life.
          "Calm down! You have options, Elijah," he said, "give me your phone and anything feminine you own for me to throw away or get out of the house. I can't be seen with a disappointment of a child like you. You were supposed to be my son, and you failed at that." I noticed him take his belt off as a threat... this would have been the first time.
          I shrugged my shoulders with sass. "I'll get out of the house. No worries."
          "But where are you gonna go!? You have nowhere!"
          "That's fine. Anywhere is better than living in your house."
          He was about to hit me with his belt, but then he gave up and instead gave me the silent treatment for a few minutes. It was an awkward, sad silence. It spoke a thousand words. "Fine, fine. Go. See where you end up without me. I couldn't care less."
          "Okay," I nodded. "Let me pack my things first."

He left the room, and I packed a suitcase with the most feminine clothes I own: some button-ups, a pair of skinny jeans, my graphic tees, and all the essentials. Then I quickly brushed my teeth and my hair, got dressed in something simple, put on my shoes and jacket, took my phone back and put it into my school backpack, where my school books, earbuds, phone charger, and laptop (and its charger) were.
          Then I ran out the door in tears, walked a little bit through town, and found a place where I could call Mya. "Hey Mya," I desperately said.
          "Hey, what's up?" she answered right away. "You sound desperate. Are you okay?"
          "No," I cried. "My dad kicked me out. He said I could either give him my phone and all my feminine clothes and items I own or get out of the house. I decided to instead take charge of my own life by not living in any more dysphoria. I was unsafe there anyway."
          She gasped, sounding concerned. "Oh my gosh, that's terrible! But I understand. How did he find out?"
          "He looked through my bank account app on my phone and saw that I was at the store based on my last purchase. When he woke me up at eight o'clock this morning, he asked me about it. I then decided to tell him the truth to get it out of the way because I was tired of hiding it. That's why he got mad and kicked me out."
          "Wow, that's so unfair of him to do, I'm so sorry! That was really brave of you though. Where are you right now?"
          "In town, outside of the convenience store at the gas station. I know that doesn't sound safe but–"
          "Hey, I gotchu! No need to worry, I'm coming over there with the car now and taking you to my place. Sound good?"
          I breathed a sigh of relief at Mya's kind offer. I nodded. "Yes, that sounds awesome. You're such a good friend, thank you!"
          "No problem, I'm on my way. See you in a little bit!"
          "See you soon!" Then I hung up and waited for her.

In just ten minutes, she was there. I cried when I saw her, tears of happiness that she did this for me. We hugged for a full thirty seconds. "I'm so happy you're here for me," I mumbled through the tears. With a life and a world that has not been good to me, I at least have Mya. And Lacey from the store, of course.
          "Aww, I'd do anything for you!" She comforted me.
          "Did you get approval from your parents to take me in?"
          "I did," she answered, "They're at home now making space for you and giving you your own bedroom."
          "I cannot thank them enough." Then we let go, I put my suitcase and backpack in her car, then we drove away.
          "Do you want Waffle House for breakfast? It is pretty early and everything, and since your dad woke you up at eight a.m to kick you out, I'm assuming you haven't eaten anything yet?" Mya offered. "Breakfast is on me."
          "You really don't have to do that," I murmured. "But that sounds so nice right now"
          "Then let's do it," Mya replied, pulling into Waffle House. She locked the car when we got out, then we walked in and sat down at a table.

Soon after we got our drinks, I saw a couple of familiar faces walk into the restaurant. They were sat at the table next to our booth. One of them was Lacey from the store, and someone I haven't seen in about five years... it was someone I've missed so much and have been wishing to see again. She and Lacey looked to be together, like dating.
          I noticed Lacey look over at our table and greet us with a smile, warm wave, and "hi there!".
          Mya and I smiled at her. "Lacey! Hi! How are you?" I asked her.
          That's when it hit me... Lacey was dating my mom. My parents had me pretty young, when they were both twenty, so that makes them thirty-six now that I'm sixteen. Lacey was about the same age, so it did make sense and is reasonable.
          "Hey Estella, Mya! It's so nice to see you two here! How was the dance last night?" Lacey asked.
          "It was a lot of fun! Thank you so much for the discounts on the awesome dresses, we enjoyed them," said Mya.
          "Of course, I'm glad to hear it!" She then turned to her girlfriend, who happened to be my mom. "Elise, these are regular customers at the store I see often. Estella and Mya." She pointed at us when introducing us.
          "Estella..." said Elise. "You look an awful lot like my son, Eli! He lives with his dad, unfortunately, when he won custody."
          "That's because I am," I told her. "Or was. I'm your daughter now. I'm a trans girl, Mom."
          Mom's eyes widened as she gasped with a smile on her face. She took a good look at me, confirming it. "Oh my gosh! It's been five years. You've grown so much, and I'm so happy for you finding out who you really are," she gushed.
          I started crying again, of joy because I finally saw my mom again. I was that kid she lost custody of in court when I was eleven. I was so sad the day she lost and had to give up custody to my dad, wishing every night to go back to her. For a while I forgot about that when I discovered I was trans and had to shift my focus primarily to staying safe from my dad while exploring my identity. She fought so hard for me, too. My mom got up to hug me, as I did to hug her back. The moment was heartwarming for me, Mom, Mya, and Lacey.
          When we let go and sat back down, we all caught up with each other and talked together. "Mom, when and how did you discover you weren't straight?"
          "Well, honey," she started, "that's part of the reason I divorced your father. Most of the reason being that he was an unfaithful piece of shit who's mean to my kid, but part of it being that I discovered that I was a lesbian late in our marriage. And then I found Lacey again after a few years, since we were friends in high school."
          "While I still presented as a guy, of course," Lacey added, "I came out to her as a trans woman when we were seniors. We remained friends the whole time, through everything. Then I discovered that I liked her. And then when we met up again a few years ago, we both told each other. We've been together for four years now."
          Both Mya and I looked at each other in awe at the romantic story of my mom and soon-to-be stepmom... hopefully. "Awww," both of us simultaneously gushed.
          "That is the cutest story I've ever heard," Mya said.
          That's when I introduced Mom to Mya, and when mine and Mya's food came out. We continued to talk and catch up anyways, which included me telling my story of how my dad found out about me and how I ended up in the situation I'm in.

After everyone had finished our food, it was just about ten in the morning. Mom and Lacey came over to our table for a second to discuss a plan after I told them everything. "I'm gonna take him to court and fight back for custody of you," said Mom. "Just to kind of make it official and legal. What are you going to do until we get that sorted out?"
          "Mya did come to pick me up earlier to take me into her place, so I'll be staying with her for now," I said.
          "Yeah, and then once the time comes around for court, and when we, because I know we will, win, I'll let her live with you guys. I may be a frequent visitor, of course," Mya explained.
          "That sounds wonderful," Mom agreed. "What do you think, Estella? We may be frequent visitors for you two as well."
          I liked the sound of the plan. I nodded and smiled in agreement. "That sounds great!"
          "Awesome!" Mom exclaimed. "Anything we can do to support you right now? On your journey or with anything in general?"
          "I think we should spend more time together, especially while I'm staying with Mya," I suggested. "Other than that, I can't think of anything else! I do have a question for you though, Lacey," I looked at her, and she looked up at me. "When are you gonna be my stepmom?" I joked.
          Everyone laughed at that, Lacey and Mom the hardest. "Maybe someday. Who knows when?" Lacey answered.

And before we knew it, Mya and I got up to go to her place and settle in. I gave hugs "goodbye" for the day to Mom and Lacey, then moved in smoothly with Mya. My new bedroom for the time being was a nice size, with light purple walls, a light blue-and-white pattern on the bed, and a nice vanity/dresser and closet. There was a desk and chair across from the bed. I could tell Mya's parents fixed me up well.
          "How are you feeling here, Estella?" asked Mya's mom after I settled into my new bedroom. "Anything else we can do to make you feel comfortable?"
          "Not that I can think of now, no," I answered. "But thank you so much. I can't say it enough."
          "No problem at all! You're always welcome here and free to express yourself," said Mya's dad.
          "Absolutely, best friend," said Mya as we headed downstairs to the living room. "Wanna watch a movie?"
          "Sure!" I exclaimed. "What do we have?"
          "Anything you want!" she answered. "Take your pick."
          We ended up watching a marathon of Disney movies the rest of the day, loving life.

My mom and Lacey were regular visitors, as we were to them, throughout the several-month duration of the custody battle. I found a safe home with Mya and her parents, and Mom and Lacey even got married during that time period! They had both Mya and I as bridesmaids, me being the maid of honor.
          This life is going well, as I'm going to therapy sessions to help heal from the past. It's a new fit, and it fits perfectly. Not every day is good, and we did fight sometimes. But that doesn't mean it's not a good life. I could even say that Lacey, just some worker at the department store, saved my life. As did Mya, her family, and my mom, of course.