The clattering of feet on the stairs told me that the house was being checked out, to make sure that what I had said was correct. I vaguely heard hush...d discussions about the note someone had obviously discovered, I’d left it lying on the kitchen table. Weak sweet tea was poured down my throat to start with, I recall remembering that it was supposed to be good for shock. Then I remember somebody leaving the house and the sound of cars being driving away. Personally I didn’t think the weak tea. I watched him as he straightened up in his chair. A sense of pride andconfidence came over him. My little brother was smoking like a woman-a young woman.I was happy for him because I understood the things he was feelingabout smoking and being female and even liking guys. But I was sad forhim too because I knew he was romanticizing all of his feelings. Ofcourse, who was I to talk. I was romanticizing my newfound femininityjust as much if not more than he was. At least he'd still have. More

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