Always Andy

Catrin Mascall is a former Creative Writing and English A level teacher, with a BA and an MA in Creative Writing from St Mary’s University and the University of Portsmouth, respectively. She made a new year’s resolution at the start of 2021 to enter a writing competition every month, and this is her second win, after also placing third in the Win Your Way to Swanwick adult fiction competition last year. She loves to read and write dystopian fiction, and is currently working on her debut novel about the lighter side of the zombie apocalypse.

Andy bounced into the classroom in a rainbow patterned jumper, beaming from ear to ear, excitedly dissecting the plot of the latest

Dr Who episode with an equally enthused friend whose bright green hair fell over his eyes. Clocking Lauren behind her desk, Andy scurried across with a quick

‘We WILL revisit this conversation!’ thrown over his shoulder. Lauren smiled, unaccustomed to this level of energy from a teenager at nine in the morning. ‘Hi! I’m Andy,’ he said, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet.

‘Hi Andy - I’m Lauren,’ she replied, unsettled to find herself bobbing along with him.

‘So, I’m not on your register-’ he started, his brow slightly furrowing.

‘Are you a late sign up?’ So many kids wanted to take Creative Writing at A Level - they’d wait until they started in September to ditch Maths, or Business, or whatever ‘grown up’ subject their parents had talked them into taking.

‘No, no. I should clarify. I am sort of on your register, but it’s not the right name,’ he looked a little sheepish as he said it, bobbing faster and tugging at the front of his jumper. It was a tic

she’d get to know very well as the year went on.

‘Did they spell it wrong?’ She sat down at her computer and brought up the register.

‘No. Well, sort of,’ his voice wobbled a little. She scanned the list of names and saw his photo right at the bottom.

‘You’re here alright!’ She clicked on his picture, making sure she’d got it right, ‘Oh. That’s quite a misspelling.’

‘Yeah; that’s my dead name,’ he said. Lauren blinked.

‘Your what?’

Behind him, a couple of the students in the front row rolled their eyes. A girl with straggly hair and glasses that made her eyeballs look huge muttered ‘I thought sixth form teachers were supposed to be woke...’

Andy shifted on his feet, swallowed hard, tugged his top forwards again. Another girl at the front, with dark curly hair and a much kinder face than her neighbour, hopped out of her seat and over the desk. She threw an arm around Andy’s shoulders, a good 6 inches taller than him. She smiled and said in a low voice ‘Andy’s trans. Dead name means like, old name. The one his parents gave him. Wrong name -

wrong gender.’

Andy smiled gratefully.

Lauren tried to hold back her surprise - they’d not prepared her for this during teacher training, that was for sure. She was only 25, but she suddenly felt very old.

‘Oh! I see. Well, that’s no problem. I can ask the office to change it on our systems, if you like?’

Andy blushed and shook his head. ‘Honestly, it’s okay. As long as you remember to call me Andy, I’ll be happy.’

‘But isn’t that, I mean, upsetting?’

He nodded, chewing the inside of his mouth. Unfortunately they now had the attention of the whole class. His green-haired friend piped up:

‘He tried to get it changed in year 11, and his dad went mental. Said he’d sue the school.’

Andy gave her a weak grin. ‘Honestly Lauren, it’s better this way. I get called my real name, and you don’t get sued by my dad. Everybody wins...’

The class chuckled darkly, and she nodded, feeling a desperate pang of compassion.

‘Okay Andy. That’s no problem at all.’ He beamed, spinning round to face the rapt class, and took a seat next to green-hair. A boy with a ponytail and a leather jacket leant forward and clapped him on the shoulder.

‘You’ll always be Andy to us, mate.’

Lauren scratched a thick black line through the 7pm appointment slot on her list.

‘Call me my dead name.’

Andy stood in the doorway to the classroom, his face blotchy and streaked with tears.

‘What? Are you okay?’ She jumped up, ushering him in and closing the door.

‘Please, just do it. My dad is here, and he shouted at my maths teacher until she cried. Please. It’s fine.’ One look into his red puffy eyes told her it definitely wasn’t fine.

‘I’m not going to do that.’

He gulped in a huge breath, raising his chin, clearly about to protest.

‘Trust me - I’m an English teacher,’ she said, herding him back into the corridor just as a tall, burly blonde man appeared round the corner.

‘There you are! Creative Writing?’ he said. ‘Sorry, the wife held me up.’ She appeared a moment later, a pale woman with a tiny frame. She linked her fingers through Andy’s and put her head slightly to the left - all okay? Andy inclined his chin - yes - and her shoulders sagged with relief.

‘Lovely to meet you!’ Lauren smiled, her grin almost rabid. They sat down, all three of them facing her. Andy’s father raised an eyebrow.

‘So, how’s she doing?’

‘You’re doing brilliantly,’ Lauren said, locking eyes with Andy. ‘You write absolutely beautifully, and I’ll be surprised if you get anything less than an A.’ She glanced at Andy’s father, who looked a thousand times nicer now that he was smiling, ‘You should be extremely proud!’

Hi Lauren,

I know you tell all your students to keep in touch - I’m the loser that takes you at your word! Uni is great. I thought 6th form was so much better than secondary, but yeah, uni is the best. Just like you said! Physics is hard, but I’ve joined the creative writing club to take the edge off. It’s good to be away from home, but I do miss my parents, weirdly. And I think they miss me too! At Christmas, the whole family was together. My mum made us all stockings, and stitched our names on the front. Guess what name was on mine? Dad didn’t say a word. I couldn’t believe it.

Thanks for providing such a safe space for me and my friends. We’ll never forget your classes and we hope you never forget us!

Always, Andy