ChickStarter

 

It began as any other quiet Friday morning. At least until the media trucks pulled up outside and reporters started hammering on our door. We assembled in the hall at the bottom of the stairs as we always seem to do in a crisis, that is except for my sister who hovered timidly on the upstairs landing above us. My Mom has always had a bit of a sixth sense for our guilt and lasered in on her immediately while my Dad and I looked on open-mouthed.

“Sylvie, what is going on?!” she yelled. “Why is every news crew in the county seemingly intent on breaking into our house?”

“It was just supposed to be a joke...” My sister's face was a mask of fear. She was a year older than me but I had never seen her look like such a scared little kid. “It just got out of hand, that's all...” She gulped as my parents folded their arms in unison. “I started a GoFundMe...for Gabe,” she looked at me, “I said he wanted to live as a girl and needed money for clothes and makeup. I was just being silly. I set a target of a hundred bucks but I didn't actually expect anyone to donate. Except they did... It went viral and people gave almost fifteen grand. People gave so much the local news started emailing me. They wanted to do a piece on Gabe...”

“What?!” My Mom turned crimson and looked like she was about to explode. “Are you insane?!” Another loud knock on the door cut her rant short. “Well, young lady, it looks like you going to have to go out their and explain. And then you are going to spend the rest of the day reimbursing people.” Their eyes locked and something unspoken seemed to pass between them. I practically heard a penny drop as my Mom realised Sylvie hadn't bought her new BMW with the tips from her overtime shifts after all. “Right...” her eyes darted around the room as she frantically tried to think of what to do. “Okay, I'll deal with you later,” she snapped at my sister. “Right now, just find something for your brother to wear while we figure out what to do about this mess you've created!”

So that's how I ended up standing outside my own house dressed as a girl while an army of photographers snapped pictures of me and reporters tried to shove microphones in my face. I'm pretty skinny so I fit easily into the polka dot dress Sylvie picked out for me and the wig she had from a stint in the school drama club plus a bit of makeup completed my makeover. I tried to keep my eyes glued to the ground that I wanted to swallow me up and the one glance up I did take was met with the gleeful smirk of my sister. Thankfully, my Mom fielded most of the reporters' questions. I suppose she was worried I would expose the scam. After about fifteen minutes of my humiliation, a well-dressed woman from a local network came over.

“I understand your GoFundMe raised nearly fifteen thousand dollars,” she smiled, ”my channel would be willing to match that if we can have exclusive access to your son's...errr...daughter's journey.”

Now I didn't exactly see dollar signs in my Mom's eyes, but I saw enough...enough to know that this morning wouldn't be the end of my nightmare, not by a long shot...