Ciel In All Directions Read online

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: Ciel in all directions / Sophie Labelle ; translated by Andrea Zanin.

  Other titles: Ciel. Dans toutes les directions. English

  Names: Labelle, Sophie, 1988- author. | Zanin, Andrea, translator.

  Description: Translation of: Ciel. Dans toutes les directions

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20210140577 | Canadiana (ebook) 20210140585

  | ISBN 9781772602036 (softcover) | ISBN 9781772602043 (EPUB)

  Classification: LCC PS8623.A23235 C54313 2021 | DDC jC843/.6—dc23

  English translation © 2021 by Andrea Zanin

  Ciel (vol. 2) Dans toutes directions, par Sophie Labelle

  Copyright © 2019, Editions Hurtubise inc.

  Published with permission of Editions Hurtubise, Montreal, Quebec, Canada.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publisher.

  Cover illustration by Sophie Labelle

  All emojis designed by OpenMoji—the open-source emoji and icon project. License: CC BY-SA 4.0

  Printed and bound in Canada

  Second Story Press gratefully acknowledges the support of the Ontario Arts Council and the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.

  Published by

  Second Story Press

  20 Maud Street, Suite 401

  Toronto, Ontario, Canada

  M5V 2M5

  www.secondstorypress.ca

  1

  My Gang of Devils

  “Wow, your hair is way cool, Ciel!”

  I smile at Frank before sitting at the desk just behind his. I’m flattered he noticed my new haircut, even though it wasn’t hard to notice, considering the change is pretty drastic. I’d gotten tired of my blunt cut; it was too sensible for my liking. I’d been thinking about it for a few days, and last night, I finally went to the hairdresser. I asked him to shave the sides and keep a good length on top and for my bangs. Because I was feeling daring, I also got him to dye my light brown hair to a blonde so pale it’s almost white. I like the contrast with the very classic black blouse I’m wearing today!

  The bell rings, and the classroom noise level drops. Nathaniel Brazeau, our science and technology teacher, takes his place in front of us with a pile of documents.

  “All right, you gang of devils, we’re starting, so I don’t want to see a single one of you on your phone! As I announced last class, this morning you’re going to start your personal projects for the fall.”

  Mr. Brazeau (that’s what we have to call him, even if it makes him seem older) has a pretty unusual style that’s different from the other adults at my high school: he has shoulder-length black hair, he only wears band T-shirts for punk music groups from the early 2000s, and he starts every class with a heartfelt “all right, my gang of devils.” Rumor has it that he’s a guitarist in his spare time and that he spent last summer on tour with his band all over Québec. He’s not my kind of guy, I have to say. He’s very cool and he gives off good energy, but I find him a little too keyed-up. Anyway, most of the girls and some of the guys look at him with stars in their eyes. Like Stephie, my best friend (and Frank’s girlfriend!), who doesn’t have him as a teacher but insists on walking me to class every time I have a period with him just so she can look at him from the hallway. She’s terrible.

  It bothers me a bit that we’re not always together in all our classes like we were in elementary school. She and I have been friends since fourth grade. Stephie’s a real go-getter, the kind who’s not afraid to raise her hand and who likes to get into arguments with teachers. As for me, just the idea of speaking up in class makes me break out in a cold sweat. That’s why people are often surprised to learn I have a YouTube channel where I post little funny videos. But talking in front of Virgil, my little brother (who acts as my cameraman), is a very different thing from talking in front of a bunch of first-year high school students.

  It would be easy to simplify the story of my friendship with Stephie by saying we’re both transgender. Of course that brings us closer, the fact that the doctors and our parents made a mistake about our genders at birth, and proclaimed us both boys without asking our opinion, so we both had to convince everyone that wasn’t the case…. However, unlike Stephie, I’m not exactly a girl. I’m not exactly a boy, either. Instead, I consider myself between the two. I use the pronoun “they.” It can be a little confusing for people. In the hallway this morning, someone wanted to know what I was again. So I answered in a hollow voice: “I am your worst nightmare.”

  And I think that pretty much sums up the situation. I have to say, it also makes things complicated at school. When I started high school, the teachers only had my birth name on their official lists, Alessandro Sousa. Because I wasn’t comfortable being called that, I screwed up my courage and asked them to change it to Alessandra. That’s the compromise I found. But I prefer when people call me Ciel; that’s my online handle, and it’s what the people I trust call me.

  My gaze falls on Frank, who’s listening to our teacher attentively. We’re not the best of friends, but he’s the person I know best in this class, since he went to the same elementary school as me and Stephie. Sometimes I can’t stand him, especially when he starts talking about soccer, but I know he’s a good guy at heart. The seat next to him is always saved for Viktor, his best friend. I keep a safe distance from Viktor to avoid having to listen to his terrible jokes during class. Viktor’s not mean, it’s just that I can only roll my eyes so far back in their sockets.

  As he keeps talking, Mr. Brazeau starts handing out his sheets to the front row of students, who each keep one and pass the rest of the pile back.

  “This handout tells you the steps you need to follow to create your personal project. Take good care of it, like it’s the apple of your eye. A baby seal will go blind every time one of you loses your copy of this. Imagine a baby seal never being able to see its parents again. Surely you don’t want that to happen?”

  A few of Mr. Brazeau’s fans burst out laughing.

  “Overall, your goal for the next three weeks—which takes us to October 18—will be to choose a skill you haven’t mastered yet, and do the necessary research so that you can apply it. I’d advise you to keep it simple. I don’t want you to learn how to shoot a rocket into space or create your own nuclear power plant. Think about something that interests you and that you can then share with the class, like the basics of coding, making your own soap, or even sewing.”

  I hear Viktor laugh at the idea of learning how to sew. I sigh, feeling discouraged.

  Mr. Brazeau continues, “You need to use at least three sources. That can be a website, a book, a qualified person, or a member of your family. If you’re not sure about your sources, you can come see me or send me an email. Your job, between now and the end of class today, is to figure out what subject your personal project will be about and come to me so I can approve your idea. You can use the computers and the library, if you want. Any questions?”

  Every time Mr. Brazeau asks if there are any questions, it’s as if he’s just announced that the school was imposing a mandatory uniform or something. Everyone seems to panic and start talking all at once.

  “One at a time! Raise your hands, please! Yes?”

  A girl in a green top speaks up. “Can my project be coo
king a recipe?”

  “Don’t submit your ideas yet, come see me during the—”

  “Yeah, but what if it’s a complicated recipe, like a pastry?”

  “I’ll say it again. I’m not going to approve projects in front of the class, come see me in a bit. Does anyone have a question that’s not about your project idea?”

  All of a sudden, there are only a few hands up. Frank, who kept his in the air, sounds a bit stressed out when he asks, “Can we do this in a team?”

  The whole class turns toward Mr. Brazeau.

  “Unfortunately, as the name says, the project is personal. It has to be done individually. In any case, you’ll have group projects in other subjects.”

  A weak wave of protest rises, but Mr. Brazeau stops it short by ordering us to read the instructions in silence.

  I flip through the pages distractedly. There must be some way to work my YouTube channel into the project…I bought a new camera just recently and I still don’t know how to use all its features. My personal project could be to read the instruction manual, which I barely looked at because the technical language was so complicated. But that would be incredibly dull….

  The students start to get up to go to Mr. Brazeau’s office or to the computers. I take the opportunity to discreetly take my phone out of my bag and text Stephie. I send her a photo of Frank’s back, with the teacher in the background. A second later, my phone vibrates.

  My two faves!

  We have a personal project to do, we have to learn something we don’t know yet.

  Wow, that’s specific…

  I know!

  Your project could be about Liam, that way you’d have a reason to spend time with him!

  ???

  Liam is another first-year student, and he’s also trans. Because he and I get along well, Stephie’s got it into her head that we should date. Oh, didn’t I mention? She can be annoying sometimes.

  Still, it’s true that Liam’s awesome. He’s very sensitive, artistic, and brilliant. Pretty good-looking, I’d say, even if athletes aren’t really my type, usually. He’s a member of the Québec junior swim team, so he spends his time training. Quite the opposite of me, I almost never do any exercise!

  Then I hear Mr. Brazeau say my name. “Alessandra! I hope you’re using your phone for your project?”

  ♥♥♥

  When science class is over, I head to the locker I share with Stephie, right near the student entrance. She comes up behind me, skipping like a child, and with a big smile says, “That haircut looks so good on you!”

  “Thanks, thanks. How are you?”

  “My heart is broken to pieces. You know my English teacher, the one I really liked?”

  “Uh-oh. ‘Liked’ in the past tense.”

  “For real! He gave me a B on my last test.”

  “Congrats!”

  “Congrats? It’s going to bring down my average!”

  Stephie has always been at the top of her classes. Which makes sense, she’s extremely intelligent. Anyway, she’s a lot smarter than me.

  “A B is already higher than the average.”

  “It’s frustrating! And it’s his fault, too. He gave a really bad explanation about what the test was on.”

  “You’ll bounce back. I’m sure you’ll get bonus points in other tests or something.”

  Stephie has surely noticed I’m bored with the subject, because she asks, “So, did you end up finding an idea for your personal project?”

  “I went to see the teacher to tell him I wanted to do something related to my YouTube channel, but he said that was too vague. So I need to find an idea by next week.”

  “Hmm. You could…I dunno…learn how to add special effects?”

  “I have no idea how to make computer-generated explosions!”

  “It can’t be that complicated. I’m sure there are apps on your phone for that.”

  While she puts away her books and pulls out her lunch box, I ask her, “How was your play yesterday?”

  “Well, first of all, it wasn’t a play, but rather an experimental ballet. And second, it was…strange. I’m not sure I liked it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t really get it. At one point, it looked like people were coming out of the stomach of one of the dancers. I think we were also supposed to see some of them as animals. Oh, and the music was scary.”

  “Wow! That doesn’t make much sense.”

  “Well, my mother loved it, anyway. You would surely have hated it. There were lots of strobe lights during the ‘birthing.’”

  What she’s describing does sound like a nightmare for me. I get dizzy every time I’m around bright blinking lights. I decide to change the subject.

  “Are we still having lunch at the Gender and Sexuality Alliance meeting?”

  “For sure. I promised Zoe and Samira I’d be there.”

  The Gender and Sexuality Alliance is the school’s lesbian, gay, bisexual, and trans committee. Everyone is welcome. It’s not a particularly fun group, but we’re lucky we have it. I’m guessing not very many schools have associations like it, where students like me or Stephie can get involved without worrying about discrimination. Surprised, I say, “Samira will be there? That’s new.”

  “Yup. I just learned her dad is a trans woman, and I told her it would be cool if she came. Do you know if your gorgeous Liam will be there too?”

  “He’s not my Liam. And I’m not sure. He’s leaving tonight for his swim competition in Acadie, so he might decide to go rest at home instead.”

  “I don’t know how he finds the time to go home to eat! We’ve got barely an hour and a half for lunch.”

  “I told you, he lives right next to the school.”

  “Oh, right. Anyway, it’s handy for your little get-togethers….”

  Stephie winks at me as we open the door to the classroom where the Gender and Sexuality Alliance is meeting. I don’t have time to respond; I see Liam in his oversized kangaroo sweatshirt, the one he has in four different colors (gray, dark gray, black, dark blue) and that he wears almost every day. We make our way toward him automatically. Stephie smiles. “Hey Liam! Is that spot taken?”

  “Hey, you two! Of course, have a seat, I’m not expecting anyone.”

  My friend makes a shocked face. “Not even us? Honestly!”

  “Uh…yeah, sure, I was expecting you.”

  “I’m teasing you.”

  I step on Stephie’s foot, because she sat down much too close to me, sandwiching me against Liam. She could be a little more subtle.

  Liam squints as he looks at me, and then says, “Feels like there’s something different about you today….”

  I push back a strand of hair coquettishly. “Oh, you noticed?”

  “Is it a new top?”

  “No! I got a new haircut!”

  Liam starts laughing. “I’m teasing you. It looks great!”

  “Thanks! I wasn’t sure you’d come today, because of your competition.”

  “I don’t really feel like going, to be honest. We’re going to get there around midnight, spend all day tomorrow at the pool, sleep over, and then take the plane back again super early Sunday morning.”

  “Where do you stay on your trips?”

  “Depends. This time, it’s a pretty big competition, so we’ll be at the hotel, but sometimes we’ve slept on mattresses in a gym.”

  Stephie is impressed. “You stay at a hotel! Wow! With room service and breakfast included?”

  “Honestly, it’s nothing special. My mom makes better breakfasts.”

  “Yeah, but it’s so classy! Me, I’d order ice cream to my room every chance I got. Yum!”

  Samira and Zoe show up. They’re Stephie’s friends who we usually eat with at the cafeteria. They say hello, compliment
me on my hair, and pull up chairs to sit near us. Samira turns toward Liam. “I’m not sure we’ve met!”

  “Not officially, but we have the same music, phys ed, and science and tech classes. It’s…Samira, right?”

  “You’ve got a good memory!”

  “Yeah. My name’s Liam.”

  The room gradually fills up. I recognize a number of people who were at the last meeting, when we discussed the activities we’d like to do throughout the school year. Mael-a’s blue hair stands out from the crowd. They’re in fourth year and they know my YouTube channel—I’m so glad I finally learned their name! Our eyes meet, and when I realize they’re coming over to me, I get shy. We’ve spoken a few times, Mael-a and I, but I’m always intimidated when older students talk to me.

  “Hey, Ciel! I won’t bother you long, I just wanted to congratulate you on your last video. By the way, is Bettie Bobbie Barton still getting on your case?”

  Bettie Bobbie Barton is a YouTuber who recently posted a video where she makes fun of me and makes racist comments about my Brazilian origins. I responded by making a new video to reply to her attacks.

  “Oh my goodness, no! I get the sense she’s already bored of me!” I say and shrug my shoulders.

  “Is that where it comes from? The name of your channel, Ciel Is Boring?”

  “Uh…it’s Ciel Is Bored….”

  “I know. It was a joke.”

  I laugh and turn red. Fourth-year humor is too complicated for me. Mael-a moves on and addresses the group.

  “Are you coming to the youth group at the LGBT+ Youth Center next week? It’s the second meeting since coming back from summer vacation, but last time almost nobody showed up! We announced it on Facebook, but apparently that wasn’t enough.”

  I answer, “I’m interested! I haven’t been since May.”

  Zoe and Samira shake their heads. I look at Stephie and Liam, who seem to hesitate. Stephie asks, “What day is it? I babysit on Tuesday and Wednesday.”

  “It’s Wednesday night, unfortunately.”

  Liam jumps in. “I could make it. It’s near Beaudry metro station, right?”