I’m thirteen, one year older than my little brother, Zack. He’s about five foot, one inch and ninety-two pounds, also pale and has short brown hai..., which is straight as a line and blue eyes. My mom, who really isn’t important to the story, is my brother’s height and two hundred pounds with brown short hair and my nanny, who also isn’t important, but she is about the same weight as my mother, but is a few inches taller and has long purple-ish hair, which she dyed of course. All of us, but Zack,. " Or, just... " she said as her hands reached the tops of her stockings, "Rafi." Just Rafi." And the symptoms?" It's too embarrassing. People don't discuss such things."She stood up, her hands still clutching the hem of her dress. Her eyes never left mine, though mine left hers to look at the terribly disturbing curves of her legs, their muscular calves, the long slender ankles. And above, most unsettling of all, the whiteness of her thighs above her stockings."What are you doing?" I. More

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