105 Degrees: A Hoodie Day

105 degrees out; 90% humidity; no AC until the bus arrived.

It was a hoodie day.

The streams of sweat that drained down the middle of my back screamed otherwise. The black hoodie, however, was the only thing I owned that made a semblance of fitting anymore. The wish, well, was much more than I had signed up for. It had worked so much quicker than I had expected, and the logistics of that were rather unfortunate.

Don’t mistake me, however; I’m super glad about the wish. I wouldn’t change it, but, I mean, even just getting dressed for college was a mess. There was nothing left that fit me anymore.

Of course, I could have worn my now-oversized tees that would look adorable with a pair of shorts. That had always been something I’d wanted to wear, but that would make my rather sudden changes quite apparent. I was not ready for that, yet.

I could also have worn my polos and cinch them at the waist with a belt and probably pass it off as a dress. That one made me most excited to be honest, but the buttons and the belt would definitely showcase my new body more than I cared to do today.

All the options in my closet now fit so strangely that none of them were viable anymore. All except one.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go out into the world as my authentic self, but I had planned on days, weeks, maybe months of slow, gradual changes that I could explain over time. The wish, however, made it quite the overnight experience, and there was the rub. I hadn’t even mentioned anything to my friend, Glenn about the feelings that had led to my wish yesterday. Ever. I had no idea what he would say or if he would even still be my friend.

So, in the middle of a sweltering morning, I had thrown on the jeans that had fit me just yesterday: the pant legs pooled at my feet, and the waistline found its way up to just beneath my ribs. I would still need a belt, but I could hide I under the hoodie. The hoodie that now cooked me alive.

Under the pathetic shadow of the sign for the bus stop, I looked around sheepishly, hoping to catch a glimpse of my friend, Glenn before he arrived.

“Hey, Jordan!” I jumped just a little but turned, smiled, and waved at Glenn, pulling the hood over my face just a little more. My heart was pounding. That could definitely not be good for someone in the middle of the sun, let alone in a black hoodie. I considered telling him right there, but I was not ready for that. Nope. Not yet. Not now. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow. Yeah. Definitely. Tomorr—

“Jordan!” he’d said again, a little of that gentle worry I admired in his eyes. He towered over me now. I’d lost at least a full foot of height with the change. I pushed myself up onto my tiptoes, trying to regain some lost ground, so it would not be so obvious.

He sidled in next to me as casually as always and gave me a gentle nudge. It nearly toppled me off my toes. “So. Felt like emulating a pizza this morning?” he asked as I set myself right again.

I laughed a little in response. Not enough to make a sound; my voice would be another giveaway.

“No. Seriously, Jordan. A hoodie in this weather? You’ll die of heat stroke. Don’t you have anything else to wear?”

I shook my head. That was a lie. I had packed an extra t-shirt just in case.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “You okay?” he asked, placing an enormous hand on my shoulder. “You haven’t said a thing. Are you sick? You’re much quieter than usual. It’s kind of worrying me.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes focused on his shoes. Dried beads of sweat had collected at my feet on the sidewalk in the form of salt stains.

“If you say so,” he said, stretching and folding his arms, staring blankly down the road.

I wrapped my own arms around myself. I could make it until the bus arrived. Then, I’d have AC for the rest of the day. After that, I could go home and plan my wardrobe and how to tell him and literally everyone else I knew. Wishes were such a mess.

“Jordan?” The quiet rumble of his voice caught me off guard. “It’s okay if you’re sick or something. You should go home.”

I shook my head again. Applied Physics 2055 was a class I couldn’t just miss. I barely understood the topic as it was. Losing out on a full class would sink me so far behind. I simply couldn’t skip it.

Glenn stared at me for a moment before sighing. “Alright,” he said.

We stood in silence, the stagnant air waved and curled as the heat cooked it. New drops of sweat dripped to the ground, sizzling and vanishing moments later. I should have brought some water. How long would it take for that bus to arrive?

Glenn shuffled his feet, and with resolve and a sigh in his voice, said, “Let’s get you something else to wear. You look miserable. At the very least, let’s get you some water.”

A tiny glimmer appeared in the depths of the hazy horizon. I pointed. “The bus is coming,” I said, feeling the dryness of my throat, forgetting briefly about my plan to not use my voice today.

He leaned forward to search for the glimmer I’d seen but stopped himself to look at me a little more closely. “Jordan. You need water. You sound awful.”

“I don’t sound awful!” I said, mustering up a little bit of indignation. “I like my voice now.”

“Now?”

I stopped. What was I saying? The heat was frying me, leaving my thoughts hazy. Why had I said that? “Yeah. Now.” I’d reduced my voice to a little whisper.

“You sound hoarse and dehydrated.” He returned his hand to my shoulder. “Really, I’m worried about you.”

I fiddled with the hems of my sleeves. “I’m totally okay,” I said to the ground. The glimmer had grown. I could make it. Just a little longer.

He sighed softly. “You are acting really weird, Jordan. You need to get out of this heat.”

The bus was visible as a tiny square now. I wrung my fingers together. So close.

Glenn took a deep breath and placed both hands on my shoulders. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong or going on or whatever. Or,”

I looked up at him again, eyes threatening to blur with non-existent, dried-up tears. “I’m not—” I started, trying to interrupt him.

He replied in kind. “Or at least let me take you back to your apartment. I’m not letting you die.”

I took one last look down the street. The bus had made it to only a few blocks away. I had to make it.

The hands on my shoulder pushed against me gently, trying to guide me away from the stop. I stumbled slightly. I was starting to get light-headed and could barely bring myself to stand. That had been my sign to finally give up on this endeavor. “I’ll go home,” I said, not a single ounce of resistance remaining within me.

The return trip felt like it happened in mere seconds. I closed my eyes, and in the next moment, I was on a couch with Glenn sitting opposite me, the air conditioning already running, and a glass of cool water in his hands. “Sip this,” he said and switched seats to be next to me, handing me the glass. I did as instructed.

“When you’re able, change.” He stroked his chin. "Look. You don’t have to say anything, and if you want, I’ll go once you’re hydrated and not in danger.” His arms rested on his knees, head down. He almost said more but refrained.

The air between us grew thick with nerves. My heart pounded yet again. Whether it was nervousness or heat stroke, I had no idea, but I did know what I had to do. I took another, long sip before gathering up the courage to speak again.

“Could I have some privacy while I change?” I asked.

His hands found my shoulders once again, firm and kind. “Do you want me completely gone or just in the kitchen for a bit?”

“Just the kitchen is fine,” I said.

Once he was gone, I changed, sipped a little more water, and called him back. He returned with another glass of water. That man was far too sweet. Upon seeing me, however, he froze, speechless.

“Uh. Hi,” I managed as I wrapped my arms around myself again, this time clearly outlining my new figure. Before he had the chance to speak or ask, I cut in. “It was a wish!” I had blurted it out rather unceremoniously, unable to look him in the eyes for fear of what I would find there.

He remained dreadfully silent. I watched my feet in my massive shoes twitch as hope slowly emptied: a plug half-pulled.

The clink of glass on a wooden surface prefaced him sitting down next to me and offered an embrace. “So, how am I calling you?” he asked as I wrapped my arms around him in return.

“Emily. Call me Emily.”