When the Moon Was Ours

by Anna-Marie McLemore

He’ll get there. Those words had done nothing but frustrate Miel. His mother’s calm and patience had not made her calm and patient. They’d made her unsettled, more in a hurry for Sam to see that bacha posh were not words that would make him something other than what he was. They were not a spell in a fairy tale. They would not make him want to be a girl once he was old enough to be a woman.