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Rip wanted to look anywhere but where they were supposed to. Their eyes wandered down the stray crack in the standing glass mirror, hoping to ignore the person standing in the reflection. Their mother adjusted their head to look anyways.
"Just look at you. What a handsome young man." She beamed.
Rip didn't know the man standing in front of them. This person, this…stranger, with their face, and the wrong body. He was sharp and sleek, suited in his best wear, with a tie the colors of his country's flag. His country who was proud of him for what he was doing. 'Him.' Rip sighed, 'Him. Not me.'
"Go make us all proud." Their mother smiled, reaching up to plant a soft kiss on their only child's cheek. Their golden child, who could do no wrong, who was perfect in every way, and…was nothing like she wanted them to be.
They turned away from the mirror. He disappeared behind the glass, and Rip hoped never to see him again. But it didn't take away their sleek frame, not their bony hands, or thin hips. They took a deep breath, forcing a smile. No matter their body, they were going to do this. They were going to race. And they were going to make their family and their home proud.
"Rip?" A familiar voice said, poking their head through the hotel door. "Você está bem?" Rip turned a confused look to Carla. She stared back blankly before shaping her mouth into an o.
"I ask, 'are you okay'?" She said.
Rip shrugged, looking back down at their lap. They'd been sitting in their hotel room, anxious and scared, trying not to cry. Carla crossed the floor to sit beside them, leaning over to cup Rip's cheeks in their delicate hands.
"Ó meu Deus," she gasped, "you look awful!" Rip frowned, pulling away from her.
"No no, it's okay," Carla reassured, "I help."
She took Rip's hand, coaxing them up and to the bathroom. She grabbed a washcloth and started to gently dab it across their forehead and cheeks, where they were warm and tear-stained. Her bracelets jingled softly as she cared for her racing companion. It reminded Rip of their mother.
"You are going to join us tonight, sim?" She asked, blinking bright eyes up at them. Rip hesitated, turning away. They caught their reflection in the bathroom mirror, holding their hand up to cover it again. Carla looked between them and the mirror, and back again.
"Something is wrong?"
Rip wanted to tell her. She was the only person in the world they trusted enough to tell. But words would still not come out. Words hadn't come out in decades. Their throat seized tighter with another wave of coming tears, and they chose it better to sign their feelings.
["I'm not a boy."]
Carla cocked her head to the side, repeating the gesture, almost like pinching a baseball cap. "Boy?" She asked, "You're not a boy?"
Rip shook their head.
"Well. Are you…?" Carla paused for a second to remember, before tracing a line close to her chin like pulling a string. ["Girl?"]
Rip nodded softly, with her hand still covering the reflection of the man she endured with for so long. She expected Carla to dismiss her, say something that they all did about "that".
Instead, she pulled her into a tight hug. Her head barely came to Rip's shoulder, but she didn't mind. She melted into a puddle of tears then and there, anyways. Carla didn't hesitate once, didn't ask for further clarification or proof. There was no fight. There was no lecture. Nothing of their friendship was suddenly jeopardized.
"Finally!" She said, "A racer like me!" She gasped, pulling away. Her eyes were sparkling, while Rip's were only wet. "We need to celebrate. We have to go have a ladies night sometime! Oh! Tonight, tonight! Can we do makeovers?"
Rip flushed. She'd never felt so terrified of the world. She closed her arms around herself.
"It's okay," Carla reassured, "It will be just us. You can come to my room!"
["Can this stay a secret?"] Rip signed. Carla held out her pinkie,
"I promise. Until you are ready!"
Rip smiled, hugging Carla again. Maybe she would be ready anytime soon, but at least she knew that she had someone who would stick by her, mirror and all.