"So, how are your grades doing? All A's this time?" The elderly kalon slowly stirred the soup before her.
"Maybe a B in that Stats class of yours, that would be understandable."There was a long pause. The apparent judge, draped in her most gaudy gray overcoat, looked down upon her defendant.
Do I tell her now? What do I say? God, I'm so scared."Well, university grades are heavily dependent on finals at the end of the semester-"A slight grimace. She didn't like that answer.
"-but so far it's smooth sailing! All A's!"The scowl stayed for a moment before receding into a more flat expression. It was as if she was taking the time to savor his response, similar to her soup; to decide if she liked it or not.
"Good, that sounds more like my gir-, I mean, grandchild."What are you supposed to do when the only love condition your family has left for you -- academic success -- begins to fall out from under you? They stood by me through my transition, they seemingly respected my name and pronouns -- but after I failed that Stats class last year, it's as if I'm a stranger to them.

I still remember the night it happened.
All my childhood, I was defined by one quality, albeit under differing names: smart, promising, successful. The first topic of interest any time I entered a room was, "oh, what projects are you working on this time?" or "I wish I loved school as much as you did, haha."
It was the reason I got any treat I ever wanted, any smile in my general direction, any affirmation at all. Everyone's amazed by little scientists.
But I never got those amazing grades in biology because I wanted to be smart. The topics were just fun -- looking at cells through a real telescope? Are you kidding me? As a kid that blew my mind!
Somewhere along the line, though, classes stopped becoming so interesting. I would much rather go camping or build a birdhouse than struggle over advanced chemistry work. I wasn't the kid that loved fun, though, because I was the smart kid. That's what everyone told me.
So I forced my way through highschool faking a grin the whole way. It's okay that I didn't take creative writing or pottery as electives, because my dad would just buy me poems and pots. My dad loved me a lot, my whole family loved me a lot! They even loved me through my transition; they accepted me without hesitation. I guess it was because my real identity never changed to them.
I was still the smart kid.
College came as inevitably as death. All stem classes from the start; all of my general education requirements were already satisfied with my painfully earned dual enrollment credits, after all.
I started to realize that I wasn't the smart kid.
Advanced calculus, organic chemistry, intro to statistics and intro to linguistics were my starting line up. Most of the classes were painful, but the formula to survive was the same: nonstop grinding.
But statistics for some reason -- I can't stand to think of it -- statistics, I could not just grind.
There was a fundamental error in my way of thinking that prevented me from understanding statistic's abstractions. I couldn't get it. I wanted to get it, but I couldn't get it. There was no amount of brute force and time that I could put towards understanding why populations worked the way they do.
As much as it frustrated me, it drove my family crazy. When they saw my first failure, they couldn't wrap their heads around it. I was the smart kid, so surely these concepts should come to me naturally! Why would I need to put in effort? Had I been slacking off? Was I a fraud, deceiving them?
The one identity they had for me was stripped away. Suddenly when they called, they didn't refer to me as Damien anymore. I was a stranger to them, reverted back to a little girl who could do nothing well.
How am I supposed to cope with that? It was my first failure in life, and it cost me my family -- what do I do about that?!
"You should grow your hair back out. You look like a boy."My fur covered the floor that night.