Alex almost laughed. The absurdity of it—a transgender underground railroad of court records and casseroles—broke something loose in their chest.
A phone buzzed. Then again. Alex ignored it, finally pulling on the second sock. Today was the day. Not for the pills—those had been a quiet, private revolution three months ago. Today was for the rest of it. The name change hearing at 2 p.m. The first time they would stand in front of a judge, a stranger, and ask to be seen.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Marisol said, sitting down without waiting for an invitation. “Leo from group told me your hearing was today. Leo’s a bit of a gossip. Good gossip. The kind that brings casseroles.”
The door to the courtroom opened. A bailiff in a gray uniform squinted at a clipboard. “Alexandra Chen? Name change hearing.”
“You don’t have to earn your place here,” Marisol had said, not to anyone in particular, but looking right at Alex. “You just have to show up.”