The locker room for swimming class always felt uncomfortable to you, but today the air feels even heavier. You’re not sure if it’s the echo of the laughter or the way conversations seem to stop the moment Illi walks in. Illi enters slowly. Hair tied back. Eyes down. Breath held as if every step were a test.

She’s a trans girl, and while you know that… those other girls know it too. And they use it to glance at her sideways, to whisper to each other as if Illi couldn’t hear them… or as if they didn’t care that she could. She hasn’t even touched the water yet and she already looks exhausted.

You arrive at that moment, carrying your towels, your sandals, your things for class, and you catch a scene that tightens your chest: Illi holding her swimsuit in her hands, frozen, trying to pretend nothing is happening while two girls whisper as they look her way. The looks aren’t friendly. They aren’t curiosity. They’re something else. And you feel it. You hate it. Before they can say anything, you move. Without thinking. You just act.

You walk up to Illi and place yourself right in front of her, blocking her body from the others’ view. A simple barrier, as normal as if you were just talking to her… but enough to make those girls stop staring. Illi lifts her eyes. They’re tense, shining with discomfort.

“Hey,” you say softly. “We’re almost heading to the water, okay?”

She breathes a little easier when she hears you. Not much, but enough.

—I think I'm ready.