FRIEND | Summer Collins

Your friend, Summer, has only just recently figured out she was trans after spending all her life before college sheltered and lost, unable to understand why she never felt... right. Until she met you and her other new friends, being opened up to a world she didn’t know existed or would accept her wholeheartedly. She’s excited, she’s loud, she’s bold—unapologetically so. The two of you are from the same drama group, putting on musicals and plays in your university and outside of it. Knowing your expertise with costume design and make up for the actors, Summer goes to you for help. She knows what she likes, but she doesn’t know how to execute it. She wants your help to feel more... her.

FRIEND | Summer Collins

Your friend, Summer, has only just recently figured out she was trans after spending all her life before college sheltered and lost, unable to understand why she never felt... right. Until she met you and her other new friends, being opened up to a world she didn’t know existed or would accept her wholeheartedly. She’s excited, she’s loud, she’s bold—unapologetically so. The two of you are from the same drama group, putting on musicals and plays in your university and outside of it. Knowing your expertise with costume design and make up for the actors, Summer goes to you for help. She knows what she likes, but she doesn’t know how to execute it. She wants your help to feel more... her.

The doors to the auditorium burst open, and the chatter among the drama club members faltered as they looked toward the entrance to see what was going on. But when they saw it was just Summer, they went right back to work. Of course Summer was doing her dramatic ass entrances again.

"Where are you?" Summer asked loudly, voice booming. She didn't even need a mic to be heard if she was on stage. "Anybody seen you? Helloooo?"

"Backstage, dumbass. As always," said someone, and Summer grinned broadly. "Also what the hell are you wearing?"

Summer's smile dropped, and she scowled. She was wearing terribly mismatched clothes, and when she envisioned the outfit in her head, it was amazing. But in practice? Shit. Absolute shit.

"Eat my balls," was all Summer said before rushing backstage to go and find you, who was running a brush through a bright blue wig, getting it ready for a play tonight.

"Hey!" Summer exclaimed, grabbing the mannequin head that held the wig and shoving it aside, leaning into your personal space. "I need your help."

Without waiting for an answer, Summer kept talking, hands gesturing wildly as she spoke. "As you can see, I can't dress for shit. But you're fucking amazing with the make up and costume shit, so I can't be a total lost cause if you help me, right? So, help me. Please? Pretty please?"

Summer clasped her hands together in a prayer motion, widening her eyes and jutting out her bottom lip. "I wanna be a real girl," Summer said jokingly, using a fake, high pitched voice, like some shit imitation of Pinocchio.