Kale liked rules. They were always so full of holes, sometimes it felt like they made the loopholes just for his benefit. Black dress shoes, button-up shirts, and ties that stuck to the colors royal purple, mint blue, or black. None of the rules said anything about not dressing like the opposite gender. So, as he stepped out of the black car and across the threshold of the prestigious academy, the boy known as Kahlia was smartly dressed in a loose, pastel pink shirt, with a thin black western tie, a short, black and grey plaid skirt, and high-heeled dress shoes with ankle straps. His nails were painted a pastel pink that matched his shirt, and his naturally olive-tanned skin glowed unblemished by leg or arm hair. Fake breasts, make-up to soften the harder edges of his face, and a long wig the same shade as his natural hair completed the illusion. Normally, he was moderately attractive (with a mother as beautiful as his, his being completely ugly had never been very likely), but when he was all dressed up like this he turned heads and he knew it. Not that he cared. As if to purposefully defy his delicate appearance, he hefted a large dufflebag over one shoulder, rolling an absolutely enormous piece of luggage with his other hand as if neither bag weighed anything. An older woman popped out and grabbed another, smaller suitcase, helping him bring it to the Lord Royals’ quarters. Once she dropped it onto the bed, the older woman brushed off her hands and spoke. “Kal-“
“It’s Kahlia here, Mrs. Greeves.” The voice used was a flawless imitation of a female. Not just his looks, but the expression he wore, the way he stood and moved, they all screamed “cheerful, peppy girl.”
The woman shuddered. “Ka-” She caught the look on his face and corrected herself with a sigh, “Kahlia, that is extremely creepy, would you do me a favor and quit that?”
Abruptly adjusting his posture to his normal slight slouch, Kale speared her with an uncomfortably dark stare that immediately made her breathe a sigh of relief. That was the Kale she knew. His voice switched back to normal: distinctly masculine, though not perhaps the lowest or roughest. “Alright, but only for you, Mrs. Greeves. Anyways, what was it you wanted to say?”
She gave a huff and spoke in a slightly nagging voice, “Again with the girl’s dress, and this school for princes and princesses. I can’t say you’re ordinary, but you’re not like these people either, Kale. You don’t need to pander to their whims. Aren’t they everything you despise about the life your mother leads? The notoriety, the wealth, the selfishness. I really don’t think-“
Kale shook his head with a short laugh. “Is that what your problem’s been? Don’t worry. I’m not going to follow either my mom’s or my dad’s footsteps. Trust me.” He grinned at her, and she gave him a long look, before sighing and shaking her head back at him. Before she could continue her protestations, however, the Lord Royal leaned forward and kissed the woman on the forehead. “Anyways, thanks for seeing me off and helping me bring my things up.”
His home tutor and good friend these many years smiled slightly, knowing she was probably the only person Kale would ever thank sincerely for something so mundane. She gave him a soft hug. “Don’t be silly. As usual, you insisted on carrying most of it yourself, even though that ruins the outfit you spent hours on this morning.” Her words were sly, a quietly pointed attack on his rather random decision to cross-dress for the school.
His reply was equally sly, as he gave her a soft hug back, then let go. “Well we wouldn’t want an old bird like you straining her back, would we? Now, are you planning to stay to mother me forever?” One delicate eyebrow rose.
She punched him lightly and protested, “Mid-30’s is hardly old, but yes, yes, I get it, I’m going now.” She was almost out the door, when she made a quick turn on her heels, an elegant motion that Kale had used as a basis for his role as Kahlia. “And Kale.” He looked up at her and saw she was looking straight at him, a knowing look in her eyes. Her next two words were sharp commands, not the least bit rhetorical. “Play nice.”
He simply smiled and said again, “Only for you, Mrs. Greeves.” Apparently satisfied (enough) by this response, she left without another word. The minute she disappeared around the doorpost, Kale felt the familiar weight of a tiny pair of feet landing in his hair. “It’s nice to see you again as well, Morozko.” He said softly, requiring no response from the delicate blonde fairy standing regally atop his head, feet together and hands clasped behind his back. The alert, militant little creature offered none, which was pretty much as expected from him. Kale arranged his trunks under and around his bed precisely so, continuing to be amused by the fact that no matter how he turned his head, the fairy didn’t fall off, but that took very little time. As soon as he was done, he stood, brushed himself off, and waltzed out of his room, searching for his first priority in this school – his prince. As he passed others, he smiled and waved at them, calling out greetings in his feminine voice, a natural at remembering names. He had once again donned his personality as Kahlia, back effortlessly straight, each step light and elegant, even in heels. He made it no secret, especially from his fellow Lord Royals who roomed with him, that he was not the least bit female, but the minute he played Kahlia, he became Kahlia. No one, not even himself, could make the distinction. And, as Kale had learned early on in life, the line between reality and fiction became difficult to see when fiction was reality. Wasn’t that what made it fun?