Conner refused to enter the girly stores at the mall, with their chronically perky sales associates and plastic-y textured clothing and blaring pop music. Not only was it a sensory nightmare, but there was a very real chance of seeing someone from school there.

Their second idea was to go to the charity shop, and pray that the little old ladies running it wouldn't pitch a fit about him buying a skirt.

The selection at the thrift store seemed to have come from mass attic clean outs, and were either adorably ugly or incredibly dated, if not both.

 After a little searching (M'gann was doing most of the searching, Kaldur was trying to convince Conner that they weren't being watched and he could relax), they found a blue pleated skirt. It looked like something that had perhaps been part of a private school uniform.

"You have to try it!" M'gann urged. "Pleats look really good on masculine-leaning bodies."

Conner trusted her judgment, but was apprehensive as his friends ushered him in to the tiny box change room.

The door was just a blackout curtain, and Conner felt it was a pretty flimsy defence. He extracted himself from his trousers and unzipped the side of the skirt. He stepped into the pooled fabric on the floor and raised it-- zipping it up snug around his waist.

For a moment he paused, looking down at the pleats.

He swished his hips and watched the fabric ripple and flare outwards. A faint smile on his lips, Conner looked up. 

Then he caught himself in the mirror.

The skirt looked very out of place on him. It was very feminine, and it was a much brighter blue than his trousers; as he dressed the same every day Conner wasn't used to wearing bright colours. Doubt permeated his heart. He didn't feel like he felt just now. His joy was dampened by what he saw in his reflection: not himself, but a crude political cartoon of Superman in a dress. Something that would be done in bad faith to insult the hero's masculinity, not the joyous expression he'd briefly experienced before the mirror's effect.

"Are you ready?" M'gann asked giddily.

"I--I don't think it fits," Conner lied, not waning to appear to his friends the way he appeared to himself in the mirror.

"Well let us see!"

Conner hesitated, and brushed the curtain open a couple inches with his fingertips. M'gann pulled it the rest of the way.

For a moment Conner stood in front of his friends, pleats laying stiffly over his thighs.

"It's not that short," M'gann observed. "It's a nice colour, isn't it?"

"Very fine," Kaldur agreed.

The kryptonian found himself looking away and tugging on the hem of the skirt, trying to will it longer.

"Try on this one next!" M'gann held up what looked like an old floral church dress from the 1980s or so. "It's wide, so it'll fit over your shoulders!"

Conner wasn't sure, but the dress was thrust into his hands and the curtain closed, so he began stripping again. It was uncomfortable taking off his shirt. He liked knowing the symbol was on him somewhere. Kid Flash joked that he liked to label himself, in case someone missed that he's super, but what else was he supposed to do? It felt like no one else wanted to label him their own.

The dress did slide over his shoulders easily, the waist was a bit baggy and the pinafore draped down to his knees, but it was physically comfortable. He wasn't mad about the fabric though; its patterning was bold and busy, and he worried about drawing attention to himself.

Glancing in the mirror he saw to his dismay that his fears had been realized once again; he looked even more like a rude cartoon of Supeman in a dress.

"This one definately doesn't fit."

"But it's even bigger?"

"It doesn't fit!" Conner hurried to extract himself from the dress.

"Try this one! Kaldur just found it."

Conner didn't want to try on more dresses. He felt so stupid, he looked so stupid, but he still took the dress M'gann passed between the curtain.

This one was black at least, and didn't have anything bright or gaudy. It was a simple A-line dress, and it's simplicity and colour implied it might have once been mourning gear for a funeral-goer.

He undid the side and crawled in, It fit pretty well, if you ignored the slightly oversized waist and the extra fabric at the front that was supposed to be occupied with breast tissue. chose not to look in the mirror this time. He just wanted to get this over with, he didn't want to feel worse right now.

He slipped out o the curtain, shyly presenting himself.

"Conner!" M'gann gasped. "Oh! it looks great!"

"It's a little big..."

"Better than too small,"Kaldur pointed out. "I have some... how do you say 'the sewer'? the one that sews?"

"Tailor? Tailoring?"

"Yes, I have some amateur tailoring experience," the Atlantean explained sheepishly. "My mother taught me to repair my clothing when I was a child."

"That's so sweet!" M'gann chirped. "Conner you look so good in that, we have to get it and then Kaldur can help us make it fit properly!"

Conner stepped back into the change room, turning to glance at the mirror. This looked the most like something he could see himself wearing.

He took his shirt off the chair in the corner and squirmed into it. That felt better. He glanced into the mirror again.

it was okay.

It was something he wouldn't mind wearing so long as no one saw him.

He chastised himself; he had all the clothes he needed at the moment, why would he buy something he wouldn't dare wear in public?

They again, maybe it could be just for him? Maybe he could wear it when he was in his closet-room.

"Do you want it?"Kaldur asked.

Conner nodded a little. "I think... I don't know."

"Might I suggest you get the first skirt too?"

"That's a great idea!" M'gann agreed. "Then you'd have options!"

Conner refused to be there when they paid, even though M'gann assured him that the old ladies at the counter had no way of knowing he was buying the skirts for himself. He didn't want to risk it.

He was loitering outside when he caught a blur waving at him from the corner of his eyes.

Turning, he saw Karen from school crossing the street, her boyfriend in tow.

Conner felt his hackles raise. He wasn't intimidated by Mal Duncan and, no matter what M'gann claimed, he wasn't competitive towards him. He wasn't jealous that this full human had half-a-foot and about 60lbs on him, nor was he still holding a grudge from their prickly encounter on the fist day of school.

"Where's Meg? I've never seen you apart." Karen greeted.

"Inside." Conner grunted.

Mal eyed him up and down, and Conner longed to kick the twelth-grader in the thorax. Mal probably thought that being in varsity football and being taller and older meant he could take Conner. Conner wished that he had enough control over his powers to show him how wrong he was, but it was too risky; he had a had enough time controlling himself already.

"You're not with her?" Mal said.

"She's paying," Conner said. "I've been with her the entire time."

"Boys, boys," Karen dismissed. "I don't want anyone's blood on my new shoes." She said, flaunting her blindingly white sneakers.

"Karen!" M'gann burst out of the shop, wrapping her arms around the other cheerleader. 

"Girl, you saw me two hours ago at practice!" Karen laughed.

"I know, but we're friends!" M'gann replied.

Mal noticed Kaldur hanging behind, carrying the bag containing the skirts.

"Who's that?"

"OH! Karen, Mal, this is our friend Kaldur."

"Kaldur?" Karen asked. "That's a foreign name, isn't it?"

"I'm from out of state," Kaldur said, trying not to a raise suspicion.

"Where are you from?"

Kaldur froze, lips hovering open.

"He's from..." M'gann also hesitated. 

Conner realized his non-terrestrial friends were struggling to remember the names of the states. "South Carolina."

"Oh, cool." Karen pat M'gann's shoulder. "We're going in to look for prom accessories in the jewellery cabinet!"

"Good luck!" M'gann eplied. "We've gotta go, but I'll see you on Monday?"

Conner didn't feel like talking on the way back to the mountain.

He was confused, how could he crave femininity and yet still envy a man's body? What did that mean?

"Thank you," Kaldur was saying, "I suddenly forgot which names are states and which are countries... there are so many countries on the surface."

M'gann affirmed this, claiming that humans were just as good at segregation as Martians, and even better at restricting property.

"Of course," she added, eyeing Conner, "humans have done a lot of good too. The act they've been singing longer than they've been talking is so beautiful."

"They've also slaughtered thousands of innocents to steal their land." Conner said flatly. He wasn't proud of his human half in any way shape or form, but it was a part of him he couldn't force out no matter how many patches he soaked through his dermis.

They walked in silence a little more.

"Thank you for doing this, Superboy." Kaldur said at last. "I know it's hard to share something so vulnerable."

Conner wanted to rebuttal, to argue that he wasn't vulnerable, to defend himself any way he could.

He just nodded, leading the way up to the hanger door.

As soon as they were in, Conner picked up that Black Canary was nearby, he could hear her heartbeat and smell her conditioner. Wally always scolded him for 'being a creep' and 'sniffing them out', but it wasn't his fault he had hyper-aware senses.

"Leave the bag here," he said.

"Huh?"

"Canary's here-- probably setting up for training-- hide the bag behind my bike, I'll come back for it later."

Kaldur eyed him. "Supeboy, is this something you would potentially--"

"No!" He snapped, "No, no one on the league can know! No one else on the team either..." He thought a little, covering his bases, "...and know one at school!" he told M'gann. He knew she often felt peer pressured to gossip when she was with her school friends.

"Alright, I promise," Kaldur conceded.

"I promise too."

"Let's go help Black Canary set up