"Wow," Sarah breathed as she took her first step into Jon's bedroom. "I mean, I knew you were a boy, but this is just such a boy's room." She surveyed the mess of clothes on the floor, the dark neutral tones, the desk crowded with old spiral notebooks. There was a poster of Batman on the wall. There was a not-so-neat stack of video game cases on top of the dresser, alongside a hunter's duck decoy that had seen better days. "We've got a lot of work to do," Sarah pulled the smaller cheerleader into his own bedroom, closing the door behind them.
Jon found himself silent. He couldn't protest, he felt compelled to be a good cheerleader, and to support Sarah. He didn't want to let her into his bedroom, but he as afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he opened it.
"We'll start with these clothes," Sarah kicked a small pile of them for emphasis. "Forget the fact that they don't fit you anymore, it's all just solid color T-shirts and jeans. A cheerleader needs to wear cuter styles and brighter colors." She waved her hand, fingers spread, in a circle parallel to the floor and a gust of wind flowed outwards, changing each item of clothing it passed by. Jeans turned to leggings or skirts. Shirts split into camisoles and jackets. Everything shifted color to include pinks yellows and and lavenders, but also bright pops of teal or blue where appropriate.
Despite himself, Jon felt a calmness come over him as the wave hit his closet, instantly changing all of its contents. A cheerleader needs to wear cuter styles and brighter colors, a voice in his head repeated. Now he could be a good cheerleader.
"And a cheerleader can be a little messy sometimes," Sarah turned to face her new protege, "but this is a lot messy, and you need to be better at picking up after yourself." She waved her hand in front of Jon, who soon found himself bending down and picking up dirty clothes to put in his laundry hamper. Which was now pink and wicker, instead of the black plastic it had been a moment before.
Jon grunted a little at the effort, but somehow appreciated the advice. There were a few items that were out but hadn't been worn, and he hung these over the back of his desk chair, but his floor was now visible. Jon had to admit, the room already looked a lot better. You should try to keep things tidy the voice in his head reinforced.
Sarah continued throughout the room, and with each thing she changed, she felt more at ease. Like, maybe having Jon as a cheerleader wouldn't be so bad. If she could mold his room, then she could mold him, too. And unbeknownst to Sarah, that process was already well on its way. That little voice in Jon's head was getting louder with each change, whether it was automatic or something that Sarah made him do. It was feeling less and less like a voice in his head, and more and more like just his own voice.
And an hour later, the bed was made with pink pillows and sheets. Spiral notebooks were hidden away, with items of makeup sitting in their place. The stack of video games had become a stack of fashion magazines. The only thing left, as Sarah opened the pink handle of a white dresser drawer, was the black rectangle of leather that Jon had called his wallet.
The school's newest cheerleader looked at the wallet in Sarah's hand. He looked at the rest of the room. It didn't fit. It didn't match. And, for the life of him, Jon knew that the wallet was truly his and that the rest of the room was a fabrication. But he wanted the fabrication. He wanted it desperately. This was the room of a cheerleader, and he wanted, he needed to be a good cheerleader. And his wallet needed to match.
But even as Sarah felt more at ease with each change, she also felt more exhausted. Normally she was better at managing her own energy, but something was compelling her almost as much as it was compelling Jon. She needed to establish, quickly and firmly, that Jon was now made in her mold, was now irrevocably a part of her orbit. It needed to be done today, so that she could display a unified front in the morning.
But it had taken a lot more energy than Sarah had planned for. And this last change was a deceptively big one.
The leather in her hand changed to pink as its form more than doubled in size and a clasp appeared on the side. Sarah handed what was now a clutch purse to her companion and sat down heavily on the bed, a few beads of sweat forming at her hair line. The recipient of the clutch purse opened it and looked inside: some feminine supplies, some cash, a debit card, a driver's license.
This last item was removed and inspected: it had the new cheerleader's face imprinted at the corner, and the name on it was "Jocelynne Miriam Gibson." Next to the word "gender" was the letter "F."
Jocelynne looked up from the card in her hand. "Does this mean I'm really a girl now? Can I do magic?"
"No," Sarah smiled through her heavy breathing. "These are all just trappings. You're still you on the inside. You just have a fresh coat of paint."
Something tugged at Jocelynne about the way Sarah was sitting, the way she was breathing so heavily. She needed her help. And a voice that was no longer foreign spoke in her mind: support Sarah. But without magic, what could she do?
Makeup was kind of like magic, right? Jocelynne picked up a few items from her desk and sat down next to Sarah on the bed. "Look at me," she said, gently directing Sarah by the chin. Then Jocelynne pulled out a face wipe, got rid of all the sweat on Sarah's brow, gently washed away dirt and makeup alike until the true Sarah, the one beneath her own coat of paint, shone through.
And just as, layer by layer, Sarah had re-painted Jocelynne's life, Jocelynne now re-painted Sarah's face, layer by layer.
