He learned how to braid my hair from a YouTube video he watched three times, pausing with greasy fingers to rewind. The first braid looked like it had been done during an earthquake. The second one made me laugh so hard I nearly slid out of my chair. By the third, I let him do it before school like it was the most normal thing in the world.
When I turned thirteen and started caring about things like mascara and lip gloss, he didn’t flinch.
He sat on the edge of my bed with a little handheld mirror and said, “Alright. Teach me.”
“Teach you?”
“So I can help. In case you need it.”
Continue on the next page:
