I looked down into his worried face, and my heart ached slightly, wondering what was wrong. ‘Henry?’ ‘Can I ask you something?’ he asked quiet...y. ‘Any time. What is it?’ I crouched down by the chair he sat on, next to the kitchen table, and looked into his dark eyes, my hand on the back on the chair. When he spoke, it was low-pitched and deadly serious — ‘Do you know how many calories are in peanut butter?’ ••••• I stood in the shower, soaping my body, as I thought about Henry. He’d started. “First, no pimples,” I said. The pimples disappeared. “Bigger breasts and hips.” The breasts and hips of me in the mirror expanded. “Bigger. Bigger. All right, stop.” Now I had this odd look of being a lad with apples in all his pockets. “Narrower shoulders. Um, longer hair. Longer. Longer. That’s good.” The figure’s hair was reached down its back. It still looked mostly like me, but I wasn’t sure how to change that. “All right, that’s fine.”“So you want to make the beast with two. More

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