US v. Skrmetti

Trans Rights. 600 words, 3 minute read. With Claude Sonnet.

Elizabeth stared at the orange prescription bottle on the kitchen counter, its white cap like a full moon in the morning light. One hundred pills. Three months. The Supreme Court decision scrolled across her phone screen, its implications falling like heavy stones into her stomach.

"They're saying it's about states' rights," Frank said from behind his laptop, his voice carrying a forced neutrality that Elizabeth had come to recognize. "The ruling specifically protects adult transition care."

"Fat lot of good that does Billie now," Elizabeth replied, her fingers tracing the prescription label. Their child's preferred name was printed there, though their deadname still appeared in smaller text below it. She remembered the small victory of getting the pharmacy to add both.

Frank's chair creaked as he leaned back. "Maybe this is..." he began, then stopped himself.

"Maybe this is what?" Elizabeth's tone sharpened.

"Nothing," he said, but his eyes lingered on their family photo from two years ago, before Billie had come out.

---

Principal Martinez's bangles clinked against her desk as she shuffled papers. "About Billie's... situation," she began, not meeting their eyes. "The new policy requires-"

Elizabeth felt Frank tense beside her. "Their name is Billie," she said firmly. "They use they/them pronouns."

"I-" Martinez glanced at the door, lowered her voice. "Off the record? I hate this. But my hands are tied. The district's threatening funding cuts."

Frank leaned forward. "And what about Billie's hands? Their future?" The debate team tension was back in his jaw. "What about-"

“There’s nothing I can do,” Martinez interjected. “I need an answer by Friday.”

Later, in the hallway between classes, Billie pressed themselves against their locker, trying to become invisible as Madison Phillips strutted past with her entourage.

"Hey freak," Madison called out, her voice carrying like a slap. "Didn't you hear? The government made being weird illegal. Why don't you just be normal like everyone else?"

Billie's hands tightened on their backpack straps, knuckles white. But they lifted their chin and met Madison's gaze. "Being myself isn't weird," they said, their voice quiet but steady. "And it's not illegal either."

Madison rolled her eyes and flounced away, but Billie caught their reflection in the trophy case glass. They saw something there they hadn't noticed before – strength.

---

Night pressed against the kitchen windows. The prescription bottle sat between them, casting a long shadow across the wooden table. From the yard came the sound of crickets and, farther off, a car door slamming, a dog barking - the world continuing despite everything.

Elizabeth's hands were steady as she laid out printouts from private doctors, underground networks, Canadian pharmacies. "We've been researching options," she said. "Some of them aren't exactly... within the lines."

Frank spread his palm on the table. "Before we talk about those," he said, and his voice had lost its debate-team edge, replaced by something softer, "we need you to know something, kid." He looked at Billie - really looked at them - for what felt like the first time in months. "Whatever you decide about the meds, about anything... you're not an 'at least' to us. You're an 'everything.'"

Billie ran their finger along the bottle's label, where their two names sat one above the other. When they spoke, their voice was quiet but clear. "Can I have some time?"

Elizabeth looked at Frank. An unspoken thought passed between them.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Elizbeth said. “There is no more time. You need to decide.”

---