1.06 – A Cracking Egg

Looking up into Goonie’s face, Leo’s tear-filled eyes were wide and searching. His voice wavered as he mumbled, “I don’t get it, Auntie—”

Goonie pulled him gently into her lap, wrapping her arms around him like a shield. “Maybe not now, sweetheart,” she murmured, resting her chin on his head. “But you’ll understand better when you’re older.”

Quinn sat nearby, her arms crossed, anger flashing in her eyes. She glanced away, her mouth tightening as if holding back words she couldn’t say.

Leo’s small hands gripped the fabric of his pants. “But—what should I tell my friends when they ask?” His voice cracked, and tears began to fall, darkening his jeans.

Goonie pressed a kiss to his temple. Before she could speak, Quinn cut in sharply, her words pointed. “What did you tell them last time, when they asked why you weren’t in school for so long?”

Goonie shot her a warning look, her lips thinning, but Quinn shrugged it off.

Leo chewed his lip, the faintest tremble in his chin. “That we went on a trip…” His voice was barely audible.

“Exactly,” Goonie said softly, her tone reassuring. “You don’t have to tell anyone anything you’re not ready to share. That was the right choice, Leo. Some things are personal, and it’s okay to keep them that way.”

Leo shook his head uncertainly, his face crumpling. “It’s not like I don’t want to tell—but... it just won’t come out.”

Quinn suddenly hopped up, planting her hands on her hips. “Then just tell them about us! If anyone asks, say you were with your family. That’s all they need to know!”

“But, Mom—” Leo’s voice broke, and he curled in on himself.

Goonie smoothed his hair with one hand, shaking her head at Quinn’s bluntness but saying nothing. Her touch was calm, grounding, as she whispered soothingly, “It’s okay, honey. Take your time. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

Quinn softened, climbing up onto the sofa and wrapping her arms tightly around Leo and Goonie. “Leo,” she said, her voice quieter now, “just remember—we’re here. Me and Goonie. We’re your family. We understand, and we love you so much. And, hey—” She pulled back slightly to poke his arm with a mock-stern expression. “I’m your older sister, so what I say goes. Got it?”

For a moment, the room was still, Leo’s small sobs the only sound. Then, slowly, he nodded and turned to hug Quinn tightly, burying his face in her shoulder.

Goonie smiled softly, brushing a strand of Quinn’s hair back and patting her gently on the head. “You did good, Quinn,” she said, her voice warm and full of pride.

The day Leo turned ten, his body betrayed him in ways he neither understood nor welcomed.

Puberty had come early—too early. Little downy hairs sprouted from his chin, his voice cracked unpredictably, and emotions swirled within him like a storm.

“Goonie!” he cried, running into the arms of his loving aunt, tears streaming down his face.

Across the room, Quinn sat with her guitar, absently picking at the strings. She played through a rock song before shifting into a slower, mysterious tune. It took a moment for the lyrics to register—Happiness is a Warm Gun.

Laguna shot her daughter a sharp look. “Quinn,” she warned, her voice low with disapproval.

But Quinn only smirked, the melody lingering as a teasing backdrop.

“It’s okay, Leo,” Goonie said, pulling him close and stroking his hair. “What’s happening to you isn’t the end of the world. We’ll figure this out together. Maybe it’s something we just need to get checked out by a doctor.” Her tone was calm, but there was a note of concern beneath it as her fingers moved soothingly through his blonde locks. “I love you. You’re going to be okay.”

Leo looked up at her with red, teary eyes and sniffled. “Thanks, Goonie.” He turned toward Quinn, who strummed a particularly eerie chord at that moment, and cracked a small smile. “Thanks to you, too, Quinn. The song’s kinda cool, even if it’s... weird.”

Quinn shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “You’re welcome, squirt.”

Goonie raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “You’re leaving that guitar at home when we go.”

Quinn rolled her eyes but set the instrument aside, trailing after her family as they headed to the doctor’s office.

Leo sat on the edge of the examination table, his legs swinging idly, but his face betrayed his nerves. Goonie stood nearby, her hands folded tightly in front of her as the doctor reviewed the results of a blood test.

The doctor frowned, his gaze meeting Goonie’s. “His hormone levels are unusually high for his age. It’s a case of precocious puberty, most likely. This can sometimes happen as early as eight years old, though it’s rare.”

Goonie leaned in slightly, her voice filled with concern. “Is it dangerous?”

“It’s not life-threatening in itself, but the hormonal imbalance can impact his self-esteem and mental health. There’s a chance we could stabilize it with medication, but…” He hesitated, glancing at Leo, who was nervously chewing his lip. “It’s also advisable to do further testing. We’d like to run an MRI to rule out any abnormalities in the brain, such as a tumor or an injury that could be causing this.”

Goonie’s face fell, but she quickly masked her alarm, turning to Leo with a reassuring smile. She crouched down to his eye level, placing her hands gently on his knees. “Hey, it’s okay. This is just to make sure everything’s all right. We’ll take it one step at a time, together.”

Leo’s eyes grew watery again, but he nodded. “Okay, Goonie…”

Quinn, who had been leaning against the wall with a casual air, suddenly stiffened. Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of a tumor. Guilt washed over her, and before she could think, she rushed across the room and flung her arms around Leo.

“You’re gonna be fine, Leo. I promise. You’ve got me and Goonie. We’re not going anywhere,” she whispered fiercely, holding him tight.

Leo buried his face in her shoulder, comforted by the sudden show of solidarity, even as anxiety gnawed at the edges of his mind.

The week following Leo’s hospital visit was tense for everyone. Laguna worked late hours and struggled with mounting financial stress, carefully arranging payments for Leo’s costly healthcare. Leo, meanwhile, wandered through his days listlessly, the weight of Goonie’s explanation of puberty pressing heavily on his young mind.

One quiet afternoon, while Quinn was out with her friends, Leo ventured into the small, cluttered office space that had become her personal sanctuary. Normally captivated by her guitars, music posters, and scattered notebooks, his attention shifted to her standing wardrobe.

Sliding the closet doors open, he was greeted by a burst of color—trendy outfits and accessories that practically shouted, "Quinn." Among them, a rare dress stood out. Its fabric was soft and inviting, a stark contrast to the jeans and T-shirts Leo typically wore. He reached for it hesitantly, Quinn’s words echoing in his mind:

My clothes wouldn’t fit you—besides, you’re a boy.

Clutching the dress tightly, Leo’s chest heaved, tears spilling over as he buried his face into its folds.

“Uwaaaaa!” he wailed, his grief pouring out unchecked.

Eventually, the storm of tears subsided, replaced by a fragile determination. Sniffling, he rummaged through Quinn’s drawers and found a pair of underwear. Despite the nagging voice in his head warning him against it, he slipped into the panties and then the dress, trembling as he adjusted the fabric around his small frame.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the heaviness in his chest began to lift. A tentative smile spread across his face, and holding the dress up awkwardly to avoid tripping, Leo darted to the door, giggling softly.

But his excitement made him careless. He stumbled, and the loud thud of his fall was enough to summon Quinn, who flung the door open, her expression quickly shifting from confusion to shock.

“LEO!” she yelled, her voice sharp as her gaze landed on him sprawled across the carpet, her least favorite dress bunched awkwardly around him.

Leo looked up, his face pale with fear and guilt. “I-I’m sorry!” he stammered, his voice cracking.

Quinn’s initial anger softened as she knelt by his side, brushing the hair from his face. Her thoughts flashed back to the hospital visit, the whispered fears of tumors and mortality. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she spoke firmly but gently.

“Leo, listen,” she began, her tone a mix of annoyance and care. “It’s not okay to wear someone else’s underwear. That’s... kind of gross, right? Think about it—it’s private. It’s personal.”

Leo’s eyes filled with tears again. “I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I just…” His voice broke as he tugged at the downy hairs on his chin. “I wanted to… be like you…”

Quinn’s irritation melted away entirely at his words. “Oh, jeez…” she muttered, pulling him into a tight hug. “You little punk.”

Leo sobbed into her shoulder, trembling.

Quinn rested her chin atop his head, speaking softly now. “You’re hurting because… well, because you’re not just a boy, huh? You’re a girl, aren’t you?”

Leo froze, then nodded against her.

“Okay, fine,” Quinn said, her voice growing steady with resolve. “That pair of panties? You can keep them—I’m never wearing them again anyway. And this dress? I hate it, so you can have it, too. But that’s it, okay? No more of my clothes, got it?”

Leo pulled back slightly, his tear-streaked face lighting up with a hesitant smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Quinn replied, ruffling his hair. “But you owe me big time, squirt.”

Despite her teasing tone, Quinn’s heart ached for her little sibling. She hugged Leo tightly once more, silently vowing to be there for him—no matter what.

The call from the hospital brought a collective sigh of relief to the small family. Laguna’s heart swelled as the doctor explained over the phone that Leo’s tests showed no tumors, no brain damage, and no lasting physical effects from his father’s abuse. The weight of those fears lifted, leaving her lightheaded with gratitude.

“It’s just precocious puberty,” the doctor confirmed. “The medications should stabilize his hormone levels and slow down the process. But he’s going to need regular check-ups to ensure everything stays on track.”

Laguna thanked him profusely, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hung up the phone. Turning to Quinn and Leo, who sat nervously on the couch, she smiled through her tears.

“You’re okay, baby,” she whispered, pulling Leo into a tight hug. “No tumors, no damage. You’re going to be okay.”

Leo clung to her, his small body trembling with relief. Quinn sat back, a rare look of vulnerability crossing her face before she relaxed into a grin.

“See? Told you you’d be fine, squirt,” she said, nudging Leo’s side gently.

Despite the family’s collective relief, peace was short-lived.

One evening, as Laguna passed by Leo’s bedroom, she paused. The door was ajar, and through the crack, she glimpsed her nephew standing in front of a mirror, wearing Quinn’s dress. His face was serene, a stark contrast to the turbulent emotions that had consumed him over the past few weeks.

For a moment, Laguna’s heart ached. She felt the sting of understanding and the weight of worry for what her nephew—or perhaps niece—might face in the world. Steeling herself, she knocked softly and pushed the door open.

“Leo,” she said gently, startling him. He spun around, his face pale with fear and guilt, clutching the skirt as though it could shield him from her gaze.

“I-I’m sorry, Goonie!” he stammered, tears already welling up. “I won’t do it again, I promise!”

Laguna stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Sweetheart,” she began, sitting on the bed and motioning for him to join her. He hesitated but eventually shuffled over, the dress swishing faintly with each step.

“It’s not about me being mad,” she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s about understanding how you feel.”

Leo’s lip quivered as he tried to find the words. “I… I just… I feel more like me when I wear this,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I don’t know why, but I do.”

Laguna nodded slowly, tears brimming in her eyes. “Thank you for telling me, Leo.” She paused. “Or… is Leo still the name you want me to use?”

Leo’s eyes widened, and he shook his head rapidly. “No! I mean—yes, for now, I guess?” His face flushed. “I don’t know. It’s so confusing…”

Laguna pulled him close, letting him cry into her shoulder. “That’s okay, baby,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out together. No matter what, I love you. And I’ll always love you, no matter who you are or who you grow up to be.”

Quinn, who had been eavesdropping outside the door, peeked her head in with a sheepish grin. “For what it’s worth, I think you look better in that dress than I ever did.”

Leo looked up, sniffling, and managed a small, grateful smile.

Laguna sighed. “We’ll talk about the boundaries around borrowing clothes later,” she said, casting Quinn a knowing look. “But for now, let’s just be a family, okay?”

Quinn nodded, throwing an arm around both her mom and her sibling. “Deal.”

Leo sat in his room, wearing the same dress and playing with the figures he’d salvaged from the wreckage of his old home. Among them, his most treasured possession was Mistral’s action figure—a striking woman with flowing golden hair, a headdress with blue crystal feathers and a white body suit that didn’t quite match the one from the comics that had platinum-silver hair and a leather dress-like costume that radiated her proud Native-American heritage.

When he was younger, Black Angel—the villain represented by another of his prized figures—had seemed just as cool as her heroic counterpart. Her sleek black wings and fierce expression were mesmerizing. But as Leo learned more about her cruel deeds, his admiration waned. Heroes weren’t heroes without someone to fight, he’d realized, but Black Angel was downright evil.

Still, he couldn’t quite bring himself to get rid of the villain’s figurine. Even as his adoration for Mistral grew, Black Angel remained on his shelf. She was at least beautiful, in a dark, dangerous way, and somehow, she and Mistral seemed to complement each other—though Leo couldn’t explain why he felt that. The action figure’s permanently smug, "better-than-you" expression reminded him of a schoolyard bully, but her craftsmanship was undeniably impressive.

As Leo played, the radio crackled in the background. A news reporter was talking about the ongoing struggles between the heroes and villains, though Leo’s attention was only half on the words—until the subject turned to his favorite hero.

“Black Angel is planning a massive attack on Quebec! But this time, Garou, the Wolfman Guardian of the North, is on the scene alongside the Canadian weather sorceress, Mistral!”

Leo froze, the figure of Mistral in his hand. His heart raced as he processed the news. Then, excitement burst forth.

“Kaback? KABACK!!!” Leo yelled, holding up Black Angel’s figure dramatically. He smashed it into Mistral’s with a wild grin, mimicking the battle he could picture so vividly in his head.