Naomi was my friend. She came to save me from these bullies, and when she got rough with them, they returned the favor. As I watched her get pummeled, I was filled with this... immense rage, and I knew I had to step up.
Call it the foolish fantasies of a child, but I imagined stepping up like action hero Blake Whitestone or MDX Wrestler Mordecai Blackwell (even though Mordecai was a heel at the time) and saving the day. I didn't know I was genetically modified at the time, and I was ready to throw down with these bullies, even though they outnumbered me twelve to one. If I wasn't, I'd probably have gotten beaten up even worse than Naomi.
I stopped being afraid, then. Was I a boy, a girl, or something in between? Was I supposed to continue wearing clothes meant or not meant for me? It didn't really matter, anymore. After our throw down, I knew I was more of a man than these punks could ever be, and I could look as pretty and as girly as I wanted while doing it.
That's when I stopped being afraid and embarrassed.
* * *
"...and then the Wolf Pack swarmed me and started beating me up." Naomi explained. "Through all the legs and feet around me, that's when I saw Max show up and go berserk! Like, seriously. Fire was shooting out of his eyes and everything!"
"No way!" Chelsea said.
"Way! And he shouted at them "Touch her again and die!", and then charged at them and beat them to a pulp while they couldn't even touch him. They ran off with their tails between their legs..." she let out a content sigh. "I have to say, it was so satisfying to see the Wolf Pack get what was coming to them for so long."
"That's... not exactly how it happened." Max said as he approached the table, sitting down next to Naomi.