GENRE: Transgender Interracial Young Adult Romance
LENGTH: 94,033 words
RATING:

Suddenly homeless, young dancer Shelly Sheridan, heartbroken at Christmas, is taken in by an uncle Shelly has never met and didn’t know existed. The burly ex-Marine uncle and his husband welcome Shelly with a shower of love and acceptance. Their friend Estrella, a retired ballet star, is enraptured by Shelly’s dancing.

Shelly makes a new friend the first day of school in this strange place but isn’t happy, feeling out of place and very different from the other boys. The new friend eventually suggests something Shelly didn’t even know was possible. Could Shelly be transgender?

When Shelly embraces this new idea, problems immediately arise. His former nanny doesn’t approve, and the trustee of his mother’s estate fights Shelly’s newly formed decisions.

With his new family’s unconditional love, Shelly hopes all will be well. It’s Christmas once again, and it will be a merry one if Shelly’s problems go away, and Christmas works its magic.

EXCERPT:

We barely got through the front door before Greta scooped me into her arms. Now, normally, I kinda like Greta lovin’ on me. But not that night. I wanted her and everyone else to just let me go upstairs, get my cellphone I forgot to take with me to the ballet, and text Mimi.

“My sweet little boy, mein Liebchen,” Greta said, over and over. Greta emigrated from Germany when she married her husband, an American soldier. He died before I was born, and so Greta actually lived with us. She had a grown son who lived in Salt Lake, but she always, as long as I knew her, lived in our house. She was like a grandmother to me. She grabbed me a lot for hugs. But this time was different. No laughing at all, like usual. She was crying, murmuring “my sweet boy” over and over. I hated that sweet boy stuff. I didn’t wanna be her sweet boy. I wanted to be her big boy, her little man. I got enough grief at school, where I was definitely the sweet boy.

Nobody at school liked me. Sports weren’t my thing, so the boys hated me. The girls thought I was weird, trying to talk about ballet all the time. So they didn’t like me either.

I finally pulled away so I could look Greta in the eyes. I was gonna tell her to back off. I’d had enough of whatever she was doing -- loving, laughing, crying, whatever. I had to get upstairs to text Mimi. I was gonna give her an earful for ruining our special time. But I saw the deepest heartache in Greta’s eyes, deeper than I’ve ever seen in anyone’s.

“I’m so sorry, Liebchen. She loved you so much. You were her treasure.” And then she thrust something into my hand. “Keep this. Keep it safe. She would want you to have it.”

I opened my fingers, and there was the ballerina necklace. Why are you giving me my mother’s necklace? And what is all this you’re saying?

And then I heard the booming voice. Unmistakable. My mother’s lawyer. Mr. Stern. Standing in the arch leading to our living room. Commanding the world in his dark gray three-piece suit. He musta had a closet full of those suits. He never dressed any other way.

Why is he here?

Looking over half-glasses, he ordered, “Come here, son.”

I’m not your son.

He held out his hand, his fingers gesturing I should follow him. His face was stern, like his name, not a trace of a smile. Greta gave me a nudge in his direction. I followed him into the living room. He pointed toward the sofa. “Sit.”

Greta, right behind me, lowered me onto the soft sofa cushion. She sat next to me, closely -- like she was protecting me. Shawn too, who I had forgotten was even there, followed and sat in the chair facing us. Mr. Stern towered in his dark suit, his grim face hovering. That face didn’t bother me. He always looked like that. Angry.

“Sheldon, I have some news for you,” he said. “I don’t know how to say this, but I’ve always felt bad news is like a Band-Aid. Yank it off, and it doesn’t hurt as much. So I’m just going to say it.” He paused -- a long time.

What is all this yank it off stuff, if he isn’t going to tell me? It can’t be as bad as he makes out. My mother probably is going to be gone longer than the two days Greta said she’d promised.

“Son, your mother’s car slid out of control tonight. She was going up the mountain, the road must have been more slippery than she planned for -- who knows? -- and she lost control.”

What? I yelped. “What hospital is she in? Take me there. Now.” The anger I wanted to text her was gone, replaced by worry.

Mr. Stern held his hands up, palms out. He patted the air like he was motioning for me to sit, although I hadn’t gotten up, and he was not even close enough to touch me. Greta put her arm around me. Even Shawn, I noticed, looked sad.

“Boy, I’m sorry. Your mother’s dead.”

Uh-uh. Not possible. Mimi’s in Park City. She’s at a client meeting.

“You hear me, son? Amelia died tonight.”

“No,” I lunged at him. “You’re crazy. My mother’s with her client. She made Shawn take me to the ballet. Very important meeting.” I beat his body with both fists until I suddenly stopped. I stood a moment. “Somebody’s told you a lie, Mr. Stern.”

Mr. Stern was playing a joke or he’d been given bad intel, as they say, or something, at least, was wrong, very wrong. My mother was not dead.

“Sheldon,” he said, “you’ve got to face it.” As he pushed me back to the sofa, he said, “Your mother, Amelia Sheridan, is gone.”

Greta leaned over and talked in my ear. “It’s true, Liebchen. I wish it weren’t, but it is.”

Greta would never play a trick on me like that. If she said it was true, it was.

I screamed. A blood-curdling wail. A scream that coulda woke the dead. Neighbors miles around musta heard it.

When I stopped, I stopped. I wasn’t wasting another tear because it wouldn’t bring my Mimi back. I remember thinking, “Lord --” I didn’t even believe in God “-- please put my life back together. I’ll go to church. I’ll be the best little Mormon boy I can be. Just bring Mimi back to me.”

But God wasn’t listening.