He She It

eleven: a strong dosage of camomile

Lilly was beginning to regret accepting a ride home from Amara's Dad.

It wasn't like she didn't like him, - Sung-jin had been more of a father figure to her than her own Dad, who had given her his unfortunate jawline, £10 for Christmas every year, and very little else - but rather that she didn't like discussing his daughter's love life in immense detail with him, a conversation topic that was proving remarkably difficult to avoid. He'd started grilling her the moment she'd fastened her seatbelt, his questioning so intense that Lilly was sure she'd feel more at ease if he was a cop and she'd just committed a murder.

(Although arguably, setting his daughter up with a girl notorious for breaking hearts was to Sung-jin what macheting someone in an alleyway was to the police).

"So," he said, switching his indicator on to turn down the road to Lilly's house. She noticed he'd taken the long route, and hoped that whatever Adam's emergency was, it didn't require either immediate medical attention or a quick escape. She fished her phone from her pocket and sent him a text while Sung-jin continued his interrogation. "It all comes down to this, Lilly: is or isn't my daughter on a date tonight."

Lilly bit her lip and shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know," she told him - which wasn't technically a lie, even if she'd been assuring Amara just a few hours earlier that tonight was her 'dating debut' and she was 'so going to get it,' both phrases which Lilly doubted Sung-jin would be particularly pleased to hear if he knew what they implied.

(The implication being, of course, that there was quite a good chance that his daughter was currently wearing very little).

"You lie to me, Lilly," he said, slowing down either because of the speed limit sign they'd just passed or his determination to figure out just what his daughter was doing - or, more precisely, who his daughter was doing. "So I'll take that as a yes."

"Natalie's nice," Lilly tried, well-aware of just how pissed-off her best friend would be tomorrow after sitting through one of her parents' horrifically explicit sex talks, which had become both famous and the bane of Amara's existence after a group sleepover that had started with one girl getting her period had ended in Amara's Mum telling seven terrified preteens about the female anatomy. "Please don't ask her about it too much. She'll slaughter me."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Lilly," Sung-jin said as he pulled into her driveway. "She'll be the one asking the questions."

Lilly shrugged again, accustomed now to his slightly creepy crypticness when it came to his daughter. "Thanks for the ride," she muttered, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Tell Amara to call me tomorrow."

"As soon as me and her mother are finished with her, sure," he said, winking. "Also, do you know where I can buy femidoms?"

"Bye, Sung-jin!"

She closed the car door behind her, not quite sure whether to laugh or call her best friend and warn her to stay far, far away from her house for a few days. She chose the first, but resolved to do the latter as soon as she'd dealt with whatever it was that Adam so urgently needed her for - which she was hoping would not take too long, because her half an hour nap was beginning to lose its effect.

This was a hope she lost as soon as she stepped inside her living room.

Adam was curled up on the sofa with a box of tissues - half of which appeared to be balled up on his lap - and a mug of her Mum's signature herbal tea, which she bought from the ridiculously high-end health shop in town and only ever used when she felt somebody's mental health was seriously at risk and could only be salvaged with a strong dosage of camomile. Also, Hairspray was on, eradicating any doubts Lilly might have had about the urgency of the situation. She'd watched the film with her Mum only twice in her sixteen years of life, once when her Dad left home, and again when her just-developing ego had had its growth stunted by Henry McDermott - her crush circa 2010- calling her an ugly cow.

In short, Hairspray was the Martin women's go-to film for times of emotional turmoil.

"Is it really that bad?" Lilly asked, leaning against the door frame and sighing. Her Mum snuck a glance towards Adam, whose eyes were fixed firmly on John Travolta in drag. and then nodded. "Oh, Jesus Christ. Hey, Ad?"

He looked up at her, the skin around his eyes rubbed red-raw. "Hey, Lil," he sniffed.

"Do you want to tell me why you're currently getting the herbal tea and Hairspray treatment?"

"Can we go to your room?" he asked, standing up. Lilly nodded. "Thank you for the tea, Ms Martin."

"No problem, sweetheart," she said, which was easily the biggest lie Lilly had heard all day, including 'no, Sung-jin, Natalie would never try and seduce your daughter,' because this most definitely was a problem. "Just call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay, Mum," Lilly said, and then motioned for Adam to follow her upstairs. When they were both inside her room, she shut the door behind them and then raised her eyebrows. "What's up, Ad?"

And then Adam opened his mouth and said something that Michael Brooks had been saying about him for years: "Lilly, I think I'm a girl."

***

(A/N: oohLALA nobody saw that coming did they? unless they like, read the blurb. also quick shameless self-promotion: i'm writing a new story about feminism and other cool stuff so if you want me to love you forever please please please read that. it's called for the girl. okay that's it adios amigos).