Spring 2016
#3 of Desdemona
Nohea Holokai is a character created by Buck Hopper, and currently played by Toledo the Horse. Thank you to Toledo the Horse, Drakken, and MadWorld for editing help and feedback.
Desdemona managed to get to the door before the fifth time the bell rang. She was rolling her eyes as she opened the door, and saying, "Oh come on, waiting ten seconds isn't going to ki-"
Her voice died on her lips as she came face to face with Braydon. The otter blinked at her, his cheeks puffed out a bit with held breath. He had a swimsuit on - one of the silly loose pair of trunks that walkers often wore. The strap of a vacuum-sealed messenger bag was affixed tightly around his shoulders. She just stared at him, stunned for a few seconds, before he let out a small, "Ngf?" sound, and a stream of bubbles lifted out of his mouth.
That snapped Desdemona out of her stunned staring. She lunged forward and grabbed Braydon's wrist, then turned and kicked off, dragging him behind her. "For the love of--you're supposed to call before you come down, always fucking call!" She knew that Braydon probably couldn't understand her voice underwater, but she was too pissed to care. She could feel him swimming and kicking as well, flowing through the rooms of her house.
Desdemona's father poked his head out of a door as the two of them streamed past, and he called, "Ask him if he's staying for dinner once he isn't drowning!"
Desdemona rolled her eyes, and kept dragging the otter behind her. She let him go as they came into the upper room, just beneath the dry room. She couldn't hold in a bit of satisfaction as he kept drifting forward with the momentum after she let him go - she knew it bothered him that she was still a faster swimmer. She got her hands on the door to the dry room on the ceiling, and she wrenched it open, probably harder than she had to. She shoved it up out of the way, and then moved out from under it. Braydon kicked up beside her and out of the water, and she watched his legs and tail thrash as he wriggled himself up into the air pocket.
She counted out five breaths before she followed him up, holding a hand over her head just in case he happened to still be standing over the hatch. She came out into the air, and the first sound she heard was one of her mom's albums playing, followed by Braydon gasping in deep breaths. Desdemona rolled her eyes again as she lifted herself up and out of the water. Her mom was already crouched next to the otter, who was lying out on the linoleum floor immediately surrounding the hatch.
"Close one, Braydon?" her mom was asking. She dropped a towel onto his chest, and passed another one over to Desdemona.
"Hey Mrs SC," Braydon said breathlessly. He forced himself to sit up, and started toweling off his fur. He looked over at Desdemona, and cut her off just as she was about to scold him. "It came."
"What came?"
"You know, the... frig, Desi, the H2O letter!"
Desdemona blinked, and then just stared at him. He was pulling his messenger bag around so that the bag was in his lap, and he undid a few clasps and valves to release the vacuum seal. She didn't move as he lifted a flap and started undoing the zipper. She realized that her mom was speaking.
"When did it get in?"
"Like, two hours ago? It was there when I got home." He finished opening the bag, and then fished out a large grey envelope. 'Letter' wasn't a fair description - it was a thick packing envelope. He held it out to Desdemona.
She just stared at the envelope without reaching for it. She could see the H2O logo printed across the bottom right corner, and the stylized, printed signature of its founder, Nohea Holokai. H2O, the H2O, the annual invitational tournament for young marine basketball talent. The one that she'd let Braydon talk her into applying to as a joke.
She found that she couldn't force herself to move, even after she realized that her mom and Braydon were staring at her expectantly. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, and she was abruptly aware that she didn't know what she wanted that letter to say.
At last, Braydon sighed, and muttered, "It took a lot of self control to not open this when I found it at my house. I can't guarantee how much longer I'll be able to hold out."
"Staring at it isn't going to change that it's there," her mom offered. She said it kindly, but it had that impatient edge that Desdemona recognized well.
At last, Desdemona reached out and took the envelope. Braydon let it go, and she blinked at how heavy it felt. She glanced up at him, and he met her gaze, grinning. They probably wouldn't send a rejection letter that felt quite that thick. Certainly not in an envelope that size.
She turned away from her mom and Braydon, then turned the envelope over and broke the seal with her finger. She reached inside, and felt a small stack of papers, along with a few pamphlets and a smaller package inside, sealed shut. She slid out the papers first, and let her eyes skim over the text. When her mom cleared her throat impatiently, Desdemona started reading.
"Dear D. Iverson, We are excited to extend a formal invitation to take part in this year's H2O Invitational Competition in Kahului, Maui, Hawai'i. Please find enclosed--"
She didn't get further than that. Braydon's hand came down and thumped her hard on her back, and then her mom had grabbed her up in a hug. Desdemona did her best to keep up, and she laughed along with them.
Soon enough her dad had joined them up in the dry room, and the four of them were poring over the rest of the information in the envelope. There were brochures for the event itself, and the hotel where the attendees would be staying, and even a couple about the city of Kahului.
Her father eventually went to reach for the acceptance letter, but she was able to distract him by pulling out the smaller package at the bottom of the shipping envelope. Her fingers were shaking, and the other three were watching her closely as she tore open this package. A fresh white jersey tumbled out of the package and into her lap. She snatched it up, then lifted it so they could all see the H2O logo on the front, and printed on the back in blue letters, "IVERSON".
They made her try it on over her swim clothes. There were pictures and poses. Eventually, her father went back down to grab dinner and bring it up into the dry room. While he was gone, Desdemona took a look over at herself in the mirror. The jersey was a bit loose on her, but... it didn't do much to conceal her broad shoulders and flat chest. She forced herself to push those thoughts away as her mom swapped out the album on the record player for Twisted Sister, and her dad returned.
Over dinner, the talk swept from topic to topic around the tournament, from the lodgings to the time to how long the flight would be. Desdemona was able to keep herself mostly focused on the talk up until the moment that Braydon said, "Just think how the city's going to react when they find out you're playing! I bet, like, everybody watches the game!"
The conversation kept going after that, but Desdemona was mostly checked out. She kept her eyes low, and tried to focus on her breathing and the sudden hammering of her heart in her chest.
"Are you okay?" Braydon asked, much later as they were wading up towards the shore. The sun was getting low in the sky, and they had to keep shielding their eyes from its blinding, glittering reflection along the water's surface. She'd insisted on swimming him back to the surface; she felt that she needed some time out of the house.
"Why're you asking me? You're the one that almost drowned today." Desdemona shot him a grin.
"Oh come on, I still had a good twenty or thirty seconds of air. But no, you seem... I dunno. Distracted?" The two of them kept walking, their steps splashing through the shallower water. Desdemona didn't answer for a while; she was keeping her eyes low. At length, Braydon stopped walking, and Desdemona glanced over at him. "You aren't pissed at me, right?"
She blinked. "Wait, what?"
"It's just, like, I know you weren't sure about applying, and I was the one who was pushing you, but like, I thought that you-"
"Braydon." She was laughing as she cut him off. "I'm not fucking mad at you. I'm happy. Honest."
"Alright, alright. You just seem... I dunno. Quiet."
"Yeah." Desdemona tried to come up with something else to say to that, but she couldn't find the words. At length, she just shrugged at him. "It's just... gonna be weird, you know? And like... it's just like you said. Of course the town's going to be watching it. Hell, wouldn't be surprised if half of the swimmers watched it."
"So what?" Braydon laughed and shook his head. "You afraid that half the city's finally going to know you're actually good at basketball?"
Desdemona shot a look over at Braydon, and the otter quieted and looked confused. After a long moment, she sighed, then muttered, "So after they all see me on tv, the swimmers and the walkers, are you going to help me fetch the women's clothes I have stashed in the men's locker room?"
Braydon blinked, and Desdemona let out a frustrated sigh. All at once he was speaking, blurting it out, "Oh, fuck. Right, sorry, I forgot--"
"I know." It came out sharper than she intended, and she quickly added, "It's okay. It really is. I just... I dunno. I didn't think H2O would accept me. I didn't think I'd have to, well... choose, y'know?"
"Right." Braydon nodded. The two were quiet for a few long seconds, with just the sound of the small waves lapping up onto the beach. It was late enough in the spring that it wasn't too chilly yet, but they both knew that they'd want to either be on shore and dry or back in the water by the time the sun fully set. Finally, the otter asked, "So, like... what do you want?"
It took a lot of effort for Desdemona to not sigh again. She just glanced down instead, and replied, "Oh, I dunno. I'll figure it out, though."
"I mean, you know what I think, but..." Braydon shrugged helplessly at her. "I don't know how it is, you know? I still second-guess myself every time I go to call you 'dude', and I wouldn't have even blinked at that before I found out. And like, I know, this is your thing, and you're the one that's going to live with this so I'll never be able to really understand it, and I know I can't go with you, and I sure as hell can't throw a fist like Simon can, but..." Braydon trailed off, then muttered, "I'll be here. I'll be watching with the team. And if one of them says so much as a fucking word, I guess we'll find out just how far I can go when I'm pissed off."
"I know." Desdemona's voice was quieter than normal. She knew that he was looking at her with that sincere, honest look that came so easily to his face. She knew he was probably looking at her just like he did 4 years ago when she'd first wandered onto the basketball court up the beach. She wanted to look up and see that face, but she just kept looking down at the water around both of their ankles.
He reached out, and gingerly put a hand on her shoulder. At last, she forced a grin that she hoped looked relaxed onto her face, and looked up at him. She didn't miss the hint of concern on his face. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah." She cleared her throat. "See you at practice tomorrow?"
"Sure."
She could see that he wanted to say more, but she turned away before he could. She walked briskly into the deeper water, and then dove forward.
The envelope was still lying torn open on the table when she got back to the dry room later that night. She stared at the stack of papers lying halfway out of the envelope, then turned and walked over to the corner of the dry room that her mom and dad had surrendered over to her the year before. The forms would still be waiting for her when she was done. There was no reason to break her routine for this.
It contained a few basic bits of surface workout gear, along with a chin-up bar suspended from the ceiling. Admittedly, Desdemona had already been doing basic workouts in the dry room before her parents helped her get this stuff and bring it down. She'd just used the limited space available, and the times that her mom and dad weren't using the room.
She went to her mom's turntable, and put on one of her Darkness records. As the first chords hit, she glanced over at the table and the papers again. She felt a gnawing deep in her guts, but she turned away and stepped over to her corner. She started her evening routine - mostly a series of crunches and squats to help build up her core and help with her jumping. Most nights, between the music and the repetitive actions, she could fall into a rhythm with little difficulty. Tonight, though, she kept finding her thoughts drifting over to the envelope sitting on the table.
Finally, after 20 frustrating minutes, she sighed and turned off the record. She forced herself to towel off, and as she did she got her breathing back under control.
She finally dragged a chair up to the desk, and then tugged the rest of the papers free. She eyed the letter that it had come with, and the signatures at the bottom of it - one from Nohea Holokai, marked 'Founder', and one from Ms Barbara Paulani, marked 'Organizer.' She let herself read the letter over once more, and her eyes caught on the last paragraph. She'd noticed it when she first skimmed the paper, but hadn't had the chance to read it aloud when Braydon and her parents were there. Now she stared at it, trying to control her breathing.
Please note, your personal information form was not completed in your initial application. Please enclose a filled out copy in your confirmation letter.
Desdemona sighed, then took a few more deep breaths. She carefully flipped through the papers until she found the personal information form. She was surprised to find that they'd already filled it out with most of her answers from her last form - her last name, nationality, place of birth, birth date, and all of those general things.
Her eyes came to rest on the two fields that had been highlighted in yellow. The first name field simply read 'D', and the checkboxes for gender weren't filled in.
She looked at those fields for a short while, and then she dropped the paper back down onto the table. She leaned back in her chair, and reached a hand up to rub at her forehead. Those easy, easy sections of the personal information. She remembered staring at them for a good few minutes when she'd first filled out the forms, and ultimately deciding that she wasn't going to get accepted, anyway, so it didn't matter if she filled them out properly. In the excitement of filming the demo reel of her playing, and getting Braydon's coach to write up a recommendation for her, well... She'd forgotten all about it.
But now the form was back and lying on the table right in front of her. Now one of the biggest opportunities of her life had just landed in her lap, and this one stupid piece of paper was the only thing standing in her way, and all she could do was sit and stare at it like an idiot.
The past two years had been... odd. There had been lots of highs and lows. She keenly remembered the feeling of terror when she'd told Max and Emmett, her other bandmates, about her secret, and the cold pit in her guts when she'd seen the look on Emmett's face. She also remembered the odd satisfaction at how hard it had been for her and Max to drag Simon off of Emmett immediately afterwards. She remembered how casually it had happened with Braydon - she and Simon were visiting, and she'd made some dumb off-handed comment when Braydon hurriedly went to throw the underwear in his room into the hamper. There was the absolute terror the night she'd told her parents, and how she'd talked to Braydon and Simon for hours beforehand and made both of them promise to let her stay over if she needed it. She also remembered just how... happy both her mom and her dad were after she'd told them, and the delighted laughter after they learned about her growing obsession with basketball.
She kept staring at the form for a while, and then grabbed a pen. Well, she'd spent the past four years keeping it secret. What were a few more? Sure, the other players on the team at Braydon's school would find out, along with the group she played with at the court in the summer, but that wasn't so bad. Easier than trying to explain to every single fish in Black Bay.
She brought the pen down to the paper, and then stopped. There wasn't a reason why she stopped - she fully intended to fill out the form as 'Desmond.' Hell, she'd been doing it for just about every official form for the past few years, even since her parents found out. But something about it just made her stop. This was basketball. She didn't fucking care what the school or her doctor or the fucking passport office thought her name was. Almost from the moment she'd started playing, though, her name had been Desdemona, dammit.
Okay, so fill it out as Desdemona, and fucking deal with it. But if she did that, she knew she was going to be coming back home to stares from every person she'd ever grown up around. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about all of the looks that people gave her whenever she was walking around on shore, higher up from the beach. Just as bad were the ones she and Braydon got underwater whenever the otter swam down through town with her.
It would be that, but... fucking all the time. All the time, everywhere she went in town, it would be that. Half of them wouldn't even mean to, but they would do it anyways, and that almost made it worse. But then if they didn't find out, that meant that she'd have to keep hiding and pretending.
She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there when she heard the hatch into the dry room swinging open. She couldn't bring herself to move as she heard her parents come up, still speaking as they slid out of the water. She wanted to put the paper down, to turn and act like everything was normal, but she couldn't force her own body to move.
"Oh, Desdemona, I was meaning to ask..." Her father's voice trailed off as he looked at her. "Desi, are you alright?"
"Yeah," she lied. She knew it was obvious she was lying. She couldn't look away from the page in front of her.
She felt her mother stepping up behind her. "What's gotten into..." Her voice trailed off as she read over Desdemona's shoulder. "Oh. I see."
"Yeah," Desdemona repeated. She cleared her throat, and tried to sound casual. She could hear the panic in her own voice, though, and she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. "I, uh... I dunno, just need to, uh. Decide, y'know?"
Her father leaned over her shoulder as well, reading the form. He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Oh. Well... what do you want?"
And suddenly, Desdemona was on her feet. "For the love of- could everybody stop asking me that question!?" She blinked at the surprised looks on her parents' faces, and suddenly she realized that she'd yelled that.
After the shock had worn off, her mother spoke. "Desi, what's wrong?"
"You won't get it."
"We will if you tell us."
"No, you don't get it!" She was yelling again. Her chest felt tight, and her fists were clenched at her sides. "I... this has been mine, alright? Just mine, just me, it's been... Mine. I have control of it - I choose who knows. As soon as I go there, and I step off of the plane, I have to be something. I have to be Desi, or I have to be Des. And if I'm Des, then that's that, and I'm fucking stuck like that. That's how people will see me. And if I'm Desi, then as soon as I step out onto the court and I'm just in a jersey, or..." She blinked, and then she started feeling almost dizzy. "Fuck, the fucking locker room, and I have to get changed, and they'll fucking see, and they'll fucking know, and then it isn't mine anymore, and everybody will..."
She fell into the chair more than she sat in it. Her hands went to the arms, and clenched, and she felt like her chest was on fire, and she had to keep huffing in breaths to try to cool it, and she couldn't get any more words out. Her hands were clenching, and she became aware that her entire body was shaking.
Her head was down, and so she couldn't see how her parents reacted. She didn't want to see. She'd managed to keep things mostly together when she'd told them, and she'd been happy with herself. Now she was just... she was having a melt down, and she knew it, and she hated it.
Her body was too tense and rigid to even jump when she felt a hand on her arm. She didn't look up as her mother knelt down in front of her, and then leaned forward to wrap her arms around her.
"I'm sorry." Her voice sounded stupid in her own ears. Her mom kept squeezing her, though, and murmuring to her.
"You don't have to be. It's okay."
"No, I... like, I feel bad for crying in front of you, and then I think that's stupid because that shouldn't matter because I'm a girl, and then I think that's even stupider because it shouldn't matter to a boy, either, and I just get so fucking tied up in my head."
"Shhhh. It's alright." Her mother squeezed her harder. Desi couldn't stop.
"I'm like this all the fucking time, mom."
"I know."
"Like, in my head, I'm just constantly--"
"I know, I know."
"I'm so tired."
"I know."
Desi didn't move for a while. She kept her eyes clenched shut, and her mom kept whispering to her.
"This is going to suck so fucking much, mom."
There was a moment of silence. Then, her mom squeezed her again, and said, "Yeah, parts of it probably will. But parts of everything suck. You have to look for the parts that don't."
"What part of all this isn't going to suck?" She managed a half-laugh as she said it.
It was her father who responded. "Desi... You got accepted. Clearly you care about this, because if you didn't, then you could just decline and completely ignore the entire problem."
Desdemona actually blinked. "Oh, uh... That hadn't occurred to me."
"Why?"
"Because, well..." Desdemona finally sat up a bit straighter, and her mother pulled away enough for her to get a look at her father. He was standing back from the pair, his arms casually crossed. She eyed him, and then went on. "Like... that isn't an option. I'm not not doing this."
"Right." Her father nodded. "So I'm going to ask again, and think about your answer. What do you want, Desi?"
She took a few deep breaths. Then, finally, she spoke. She was surprised to hear that her voice wasn't shaking. "This. I want this. More than anything I've ever wanted, I want this."
"Which part?" Her dad was still using that casual, matter-of-fact tone. "Going to this event? Or being just Desdemona? Would you feel right going there and playing and having people call you Desmond?"
"No." She blinked. It was as simple as that. "I wouldn't. But that still... dad, that still means that I'm just... like, I'm telling everybody. Like, everybody here, everybody on the surface, everybody at the frigging event, like... I'm not going to play wearing forms stuffed into a sports bra or anything. I can't hide the trans part."
"Well that's the easy part." Her mom was speaking again. There was a hint of a grin on her face now. "The moment that most people are going to realize it is the moment you step onto the court to play. You got accepted to that event for a reason. Give them something else to focus on."
Desdemona met her mom's intense gaze. She flicked her eyes over to some of the photos lining the walls, of her mom performing at concerts, or posing with famous musicians, or even one or two of her attending awards shows. Her mom knew how to work a crowd and put on a show. Desdemona might not be half the musician that her mother was, but...
"Okay," she muttered. "Okay." She turned back to the form, and grabbed the pen. "Fuck it, we're doing this."
She leaned forward and started writing. She still felt like her heart was going to jackhammer out of her chest, but she kept her hand steady. Her father called over as she wrote.
"We never did discuss why you chose that particular name."
"Oh, right. I was thinking about that awesome character from that one play. You know, the one with that super awesome woman who always wanted to fight?"
"Othello?" Her father sounded incredulous.
"No, that one you brought me to when I was, like, thirteen. Goodnight Desdemona, Good Morning Juliet?"
"Oh..." Her father drew the word out. "Right."
"I probably should get around to reading Othello at some point, though, given I named myself after Desdemona."
"You know what? You're probably good to hold off on that one."
Desdemona took a deep, deep breath as she stepped out of the secure area and into the arrivals area of the airport in Kahului. Her backpack was hanging loose from her shoulders, and she was slumping a bit from aches and exhaustion from the flight. She would have to thank whoever had organized all of the flights for H2O - they'd arranged for her to sit in the emergency row, so she'd gotten a bit of extra leg room. That only went so far on a six foot seven fish, though. She'd had to consciously remind herself to stop in at the bathroom after she'd gotten off the plane, to adjust her bra and make sure nothing had moved too far out of the way.
She met with the representative from H2O, and nodded along absentmindedly at the baggage carousel as he spoke about the event. He seemed to be used to picking up half-awake participants, because he was able to keep up the casual, one-sided banter all the way to the hotel. Desdemona just stared out the window as the city rolled by. She thought back to the letters exchanged back and forth over the past couple months, and reminded herself: she had to find either Holokai, or Ms Paulani, and talk to them. The two of them seemed to be in charge.
The rest of the day flew by in a dizzying, confusing rush. Desdemona had a short break to go and get settled in her room, have a shower, and get changed, and then she was whisked off. Soon enough she had met with the other players - at 17, she was the youngest of the group, and the only one who wasn't yet in university. The players themselves were from all over the world, and in all sorts of sizes. A few of them could barely speak English, but they... well, they seemed friendly, at least.
There was a group press photo session. Partway through, the door to the room they were using opened, and in lumbered an enormous mass of black and white, followed by a bright purple fish who barely came up to his chest. Desdemona and the other players all quieted as they recognized Nohea Holokai, famed centre for the Montana Howlers and founder of the H2O event. He towered above even the tallest of the players present, and his bulk made him stand out even more. The purple fish who was following him was constantly glancing at her phone and keeping up a stream of commentary. She was wearing a smart business suit, with the H2O logo embroidered on the breast pocket. She fell back as Holokai walked into the room, but she kept tapping away at her phone. Looking at her, Desdemona assumed she was Ms Paulani, the triggerfish whose name had been on every piece of communication from the event.
As the orca made his way over to join in the for the photos, Desdemona was struck by just how... quiet he was. He nodded along, and listened to all of the tentative instructions that the photographer gave him. Once the group photos were done, he went to leave without a word. As he was about to duck through the door again, though, he seemed to hesitate, and then turn back to the group. He looked them over for a long moment, and then spoke in a deep, measured voice.
"I have to finish the setup for the drills and games tomorrow. I'll probably be at the dinner tonight. If not, I'll see all of you in the morning for practice."
With that, he turned and left. Ms Paulani followed him, and nobody in the room missed her saying, "Oh, they'll see you there alright..." Desdemona and the other players stared after them. A few of them quietly joked with each other about the 'probably' part of Nohea's statement, but Desdemona wasn't so sure. She got the impression that if he had his way, he would avoid the formal dinner altogether.
It wasn't until they were leaving that Desdemona remembered her mission, and that both Holokai and Ms Paulani had just walked right by her. She bit back a curse. There would be other opportunities.
The rest of the day was taken up with a tour of Kahului, including showing them the stadium where they would be practicing and playing the next day. It was just down the beach from their hotel, and Desdemona was thankful for that. Their tour guide informed them that they would be visiting a few of the aquatic communities surrounding the island for the few days following the game.
In the late afternoon, they were given some time to themselves before the formal press dinner that evening. Desdemona fully intended to go out and try to find either Holokai or Ms Paulani, but when she stepped into her room, she was struck by a wave of exhaustion. She lay down on the bed, fully intending to have a quick power nap. By the time she woke up and glanced at the clock, though, she realized it was time to get dressed for the dinner.
She stopped to look at herself in the mirror before she left, and... well. She had to admit that it was working. She had on a pale blue dress that contrasted with the yellow and green of her scales. She'd been unsure about the dress when she'd first tried it on - even with the forms she was wearing, the broadness of her shoulders was a dead giveaway. Her father had solved this problem by lending her his leather jacket. It now hung off of her shoulders, and she had to admit... she looked pretty metal.
She turned and headed out the door. If she was in for a long dinner of speeches from the sponsors and the organizers, well... at least she was going to look good for it. She made another mental note to herself: talk to Holokai or Ms Paulani at the dinner, dammit.
When Desdemona woke up the next morning, she felt rested. It wasn't until she was in the shower that she realized that she'd forgotten something very important the day before. The night had been so... overwhelming, with all of the speeches and the appearances from the sponsors, and the pictures, that she hadn't even had a chance to approach either the orca or the triggerfish. Oddly, Holokai hadn't spoken a word the whole time. Clearly this was the compromise that he and Ms Paulani had come to for him to attend the dinner.
After she was dressed, she glanced at the clock, then down at the schedule. The games themselves, three shortened games that were meant to give each of the participants equal play time, were that night. They were scheduled to run drills all that day, with Nohea Holokai himself overseeing much of the practice. She still had a couple of hours before she had to be at the stadium and in the locker room.
She went down to the breakfast that had been set out for all of the players. A few of the others were awake, and they called her over to their table. She joined them, but she didn't speak. Desdemona was getting nervous, now that it was actually time.
She finished her food, then got up and left. She briefly considered going for a walk or a run somewhere to clear her head, but finally decided against it. Waiting was only going to make her more nervous. Instead, she walked up to her room, and grabbed the bag that she had her workout gear and the H2O jerseys in. She set her gaze, and then walked out of her room at a determined pace.
She got to the stadium, and she could see that there were already a few members of the sports press there. A few of them, noticing her, started approaching, but one member of the H2O staff intercepted them while another guided Desdemona into the stadium. He started bringing her towards the locker rooms, but stopped when Desdemona said, "Uh... actually, do you think you could bring me to Mr Holokai?"
The attendant blinked, but he nodded and led Desdemona through the stadium. They took a number of odd turns and shortcuts, which the attendant explained was to keep them from stepping into any of the public areas where there might be press. Desdemona nodded at this, and tried to keep her stomach from doing somersaults as she thought of the people back home that might see that coverage.
At last, they reached the slightly ajar door of an office. There were voices coming from inside; Ms Paulani's high, energetic voice, occasionally punctuated by Holokai's low rumble. The attendant walked over, and then gave a tentative knock.
The higher, energetic voice called out, "Not now!", but was immediately drowned out by Holokai's voice calling, much more hurriedly than Desdemona had heard him up until that point, "Go ahead, come in!."
They pushed open the door. Holokai was sitting behind a large desk, somehow managing to make the oversized piece of furniture look small, while Ms Paulani was standing with her arms crossed in front of him. There were papers spread out across the top of the desk, including a few basic copies of plays and bits of bios for Desdemona and the other players. Both Holokai and Ms Paulani glanced over to the door, the orca looking relieved, and the triggerfish just looking impatient.
"Yes?" Holokai asked, before Ms Paulani could speak.
"Sorry for interrupting," the attendant said. Desdemona could have sworn she heard Holokai mutter, "don't be," under his breath, but the attendant kept speaking. "Ms Iverson said she wanted to speak with you."
"Yes, Desdemona," the orca rumbled. He glanced over at her. "What do you need?"
Desdemona glanced at him, then over at Ms Paulani, who was looking down at the papers assembled on the desk in impatience, then over to the attendant. She gulped, then said, "Uh... it's kind of a private matter. If that's alright."
"Do you really think we have time fo-"
"Absolutely," Holokai stood up, cutting Ms Paulani off. She shot him a look, and he just gave a long, slow shrug over at her before stepping around the desk. He led Desdemona out the door, and they started down the hallway, with the attendant staying behind in the office.
They walked in silence for a short while, with Desdemona keeping her head down. It was an odd experience; she wasn't used to being shorter than, well, anybody. The orca dwarfed her, though. As they came around the corner, into an empty hallway, Holokai glanced over at her.
"What do you need to talk about?"
She glanced up and down the hallway. She couldn't even hear any footsteps anywhere nearby, and the few doors they passed were shut and quiet. She sighed. She supposed this was about as private as it was going to get.
"So... do you remember how I, uh, didn't fill out my personal information form properly? When I applied?"
That brought a hint of a grin to the orca's face. "I do. A number of the organizers thought that should have disqualified you. I disagreed."
Desdemona blinked, and had to remind herself to keep walking. It hadn't occurred to her that Holokai himself had helped with the selection. As they kept walking, she ducked her head, and then muttered, "Right. Well, uh, I hadn't filled it out properly the first time on purpose." She stopped speaking, waiting for him to ask any questions. He didn't. He kept walking. She sighed internally, then went on, "Because I... well, like, I didn't really know how to fill them out, you know?" Again, silence. They stepped into a new hallway and kept walking, everything still deadly quiet around them. At last, Desdemona cleared her throat, and then said with as much calm as she could muster, "Because, uh, I'm trans."
The two of them kept walking in silence. Desdemona was expecting Holokai to look over at her, or to say something, or... she didn't know. She was expecting something. He just kept walking, until suddenly they were stepping out into the court itself. The lights were out, giving the space a cavernous, cold feeling. Holokai finally stopped as they reached the court, then turned and glanced over at her.
"Yes?"
She blinked again. Then, she muttered, "Uh... how do you want to handle this?"
"What part of it?"
She swallowed. Her voice sounded thin when she spoke. "Well, man, uh... the locker rooms are gendered. And, like, this is your event, and, like..." She forced herself to stop, knowing that she was starting to work herself up again. She took another deep breath, then asked, "So, like... what am I doing?"
Everything was very quiet in the huge space after that. Holokai kept looking at her, his face oddly placid. She kept feeling like she was going to freak out at any moment, but she forced herself to keep breathing.
Then, at last, Holokai turned and gestured for her to follow. She blinked, then jogged to catch up with him a moment later. He led her over to the players' entrance to the court, and down the short hallway. Then, he walked over to the women's locker room, and gestured towards it.
She just stared at him for a moment or two in silence, and then walked over to the door. She cleared her throat, then went to push it open. His voice drew her up short.
"Let me know if anybody gives you trouble."
She glanced up at him. His face was unreadable again, but there had been a certainty in his voice when he'd spoken that made her feel... calm. She took a deep breath. "Give my regards to Ms Paulani if this goes south."
He shook his head. "That's why she's here. Besides, she likes it."
With that, he turned and headed off back down the hallway. That was it. She watched him go, and let her breath out in a long, slow sigh. Then she turned and looked at the door again.
"Well," she muttered, "now all I have to do is blow everybody away."
With that, Desdemona stepped into the women's locker room.