girlfriends at school whose mothers let them wear nail polish at least.
I sat brushing my hair, which my mother liked long on me. Grandmother Emma wanted it to be cut and styled, but that was an argument Mama wouldn't lose.
"I'm not turning, her into a proper little mannequin," she said.
Daddy tried to get Mama to have my hair cut, too, but she wouldn't budge on it.
"She pulls your strings. Christopher, not mine," she told him, which started another bad argument.
After I brushed my hair. I got undressed except for my panties and went into my bathroom to wash up well so Grandmother Emma would have nothing bad to say about me at dinner. While I was washing my face. Ian came to my bathroom door.
He had reams of paper in his hands.
I had forgotten my promising Mama to never let anyone else set me undressed. I quickly raised my arms to cover my buds, as she had called them.
Ian looked at his papers. "Yes, you are suffering from something called precocious puberty, all right. Actually, it's becoming something more and more common. Nearly fifty percent of all black girls and at least fifteen percent of white girls have or would be diagnosed with the condition this year," he continued. "There are various theories about it. One idea is that all the growth hormones in meat and poultry are having an effect on humans."
Ian could sound just like Mr. Milner, the elementary school principal who also spoke through his nose when he was saying very important things.
Ian looked up from the papers. "I have noticed how tall you've gotten. In fact, I recall telling Mother not that long ago, but she didn't appear to hear me or care at the time. Since both she and Daddy are tall people, they would just assume it was natural for you to be tall. I'm not tall for my age," he added. "However. I could suddenly grow faster, taller. My shoe size would suggest it.
I looked at his feet and then at mine, which were not very big or long.
"The important thing is we'll have to keep track of your development on a nearly daily basis. From what you've told me. Dell'Acqua is following the correct protocol."
"What's that?"
"Medical procedure for diagnosing the problem. She'll soon come up with a treatment. I'm glad Mother found out about you quickly."
It wasn't that quickly. I thought, but didn't say.
He stared at me and then he walked up to me. "How developed are you?" he asked.
"You'd better go away, Ian," I said. "Mama will be mad."
"Don't be silly. I'm your older brother. Let me see," he said. "I'd like to compare you to this picture I brought up on my computer."
He showed it to me. It did look like my chest. I lowered my arms and he studied me.
"Holy schmoly," he muttered. "That's not baby fat. I assume you have pubic hair as well."
I nodded. That's what Mama had called it the night in the bathroom.
"Don't tell Mama I let you see my chest," I said.
"Of course I won't," he said, looking insulted that I would even suggest such a thing. "My research and observations are not something anyone else should know about, not even Father or Mother for that matter, much less Grandmother Emma. It will be something kept solely between you and me. Let's both swear to that. Put your right hand over your heart. Go on."
I did so and so did he.
"Do you swear never to reveal my research and involvement concerning your condition of precocious puberty?"
It sounded very official. "yes," I said.
"So do I and that's that," he said with his characteristic firmness.
He turned and left my bathroom.
How amazing, I thought. I had another special secret, this time with Ian, sealed with an official oath. I had never shared anything as important with him as this.
I didn't know if I should be sad or happy anymore.
I looked at myself in the mirror again. Ian had been very impressed with my buds. I slowly brought my right finer to my nipple. It wasn't the way Dr. Dell'Acqua had touched me, but it gave me a strange, new feeling, which both frightened and interested me. I had never thought to do that
I sat brushing my hair, which my mother liked long on me. Grandmother Emma wanted it to be cut and styled, but that was an argument Mama wouldn't lose.
"I'm not turning, her into a proper little mannequin," she said.
Daddy tried to get Mama to have my hair cut, too, but she wouldn't budge on it.
"She pulls your strings. Christopher, not mine," she told him, which started another bad argument.
After I brushed my hair. I got undressed except for my panties and went into my bathroom to wash up well so Grandmother Emma would have nothing bad to say about me at dinner. While I was washing my face. Ian came to my bathroom door.
He had reams of paper in his hands.
I had forgotten my promising Mama to never let anyone else set me undressed. I quickly raised my arms to cover my buds, as she had called them.
Ian looked at his papers. "Yes, you are suffering from something called precocious puberty, all right. Actually, it's becoming something more and more common. Nearly fifty percent of all black girls and at least fifteen percent of white girls have or would be diagnosed with the condition this year," he continued. "There are various theories about it. One idea is that all the growth hormones in meat and poultry are having an effect on humans."
Ian could sound just like Mr. Milner, the elementary school principal who also spoke through his nose when he was saying very important things.
Ian looked up from the papers. "I have noticed how tall you've gotten. In fact, I recall telling Mother not that long ago, but she didn't appear to hear me or care at the time. Since both she and Daddy are tall people, they would just assume it was natural for you to be tall. I'm not tall for my age," he added. "However. I could suddenly grow faster, taller. My shoe size would suggest it.
I looked at his feet and then at mine, which were not very big or long.
"The important thing is we'll have to keep track of your development on a nearly daily basis. From what you've told me. Dell'Acqua is following the correct protocol."
"What's that?"
"Medical procedure for diagnosing the problem. She'll soon come up with a treatment. I'm glad Mother found out about you quickly."
It wasn't that quickly. I thought, but didn't say.
He stared at me and then he walked up to me. "How developed are you?" he asked.
"You'd better go away, Ian," I said. "Mama will be mad."
"Don't be silly. I'm your older brother. Let me see," he said. "I'd like to compare you to this picture I brought up on my computer."
He showed it to me. It did look like my chest. I lowered my arms and he studied me.
"Holy schmoly," he muttered. "That's not baby fat. I assume you have pubic hair as well."
I nodded. That's what Mama had called it the night in the bathroom.
"Don't tell Mama I let you see my chest," I said.
"Of course I won't," he said, looking insulted that I would even suggest such a thing. "My research and observations are not something anyone else should know about, not even Father or Mother for that matter, much less Grandmother Emma. It will be something kept solely between you and me. Let's both swear to that. Put your right hand over your heart. Go on."
I did so and so did he.
"Do you swear never to reveal my research and involvement concerning your condition of precocious puberty?"
It sounded very official. "yes," I said.
"So do I and that's that," he said with his characteristic firmness.
He turned and left my bathroom.
How amazing, I thought. I had another special secret, this time with Ian, sealed with an official oath. I had never shared anything as important with him as this.
I didn't know if I should be sad or happy anymore.
I looked at myself in the mirror again. Ian had been very impressed with my buds. I slowly brought my right finer to my nipple. It wasn't the way Dr. Dell'Acqua had touched me, but it gave me a strange, new feeling, which both frightened and interested me. I had never thought to do that
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