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Emily started crying. We were eating dinner. I looked over, and everyone was crying. I didn't know why. We had chicken fingers.

Mom just sat there with tears rolling down her face. It was a mad face.

Dad had a worried face. He kept wiping his eyes, and black smudges started to appear. He looked like a raccoon.

I stopped eating and swallowed. I knew I shouldn't talk with my mouth full. I swallowed again and drank some milk. "I don't understand about divorce. Will you still be my parents?"

Mom and Dad turned towards me. Mom nodded, and Dad looked at me. "Of course. It's just that things are changing."

I grew mad. "I know that. You said you're going to become a woman. I knew that already. But, Billy has two moms, and he's fine. His lunches are cool. He always has fruit roll-ups. He shares."

Mom stared at Dad as if she just noticed he was at the table. I noticed. I knew that Dad was changing. He was shrinking, not getting shorter, but he was getting little. He had started wearing smaller clothes, and everything was brighter.

His smells had changed, too. Every time he kissed me goodnight, I could smell flowers. When he hugged me I knew he had boobs. One time, I saw him standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom without his shirt on. He was staring at them. He used both his hands and cupped them together. He didn't see me. I saw him smiling.

He didn't have a scratchy beard anymore. His hair was longer, and he brushed it differently. And he wore make-up. Just a little, kinda like mom. His eyes looked pretty that way.

But now, his eyes were all runny. Mom was crying, and her eyes looked okay.

"How come you don't look like a raccoon, Mom?"

She looked at me. She looked over at Dad. Then she smiled. "My mascara is waterproof. Your fathers isn't."

I looked at my Dad. "Then you need waterproof, too."

Mom looked at Dad. "He's still learning, Frankie."

Emily sat there. She looked at both our parents. "Why are you doing this to me? How can I go back to school? My friends were already asking me questions."

Dad shook his head. "That's why we're all going to counseling. You should mention that to Doctor Clark so she can help you with those questions."

Mom looked at Emily. "What questions?"

Emily looked down at her lap. "The kids wanted to know why Dad looks like a woman now."

Mom's lip quivered. "What did you tell them?"

Emily stared at Dad. "I said I didn't know why. When I asked Dad, he said he was in the wrong body. He said he was born in the wrong body. I can't tell my friends that. Bobby said he was going to cut off his wiener."

I think I laughed. Everyone looked at me. "Sorry." And then I giggled. It sounded so funny like we were all lined up at birth on some assembly line. And this machine in heaven dropped everyone into bodies and Dad was shoved into one that didn't fit.

The wiener thing didn't sound too good either. "How are you going to pee without a wiener? You know Dad's got boobs. I saw them. I can feel them when he hugs me. He smells nice too."

Emily looked at me and made that noise she makes whenever I walk into her room without knocking. "You are so eight. Oh, God." Then, she stared at Dad. "Why? What's wrong with you? Why can't things stay the way they were?"

Mom raised her voice. "Emily. Nothing stays the same. We all change."

Emily looked at Mom. "Don't you love each other anymore?"

Dad looked hurt and stared at Mom.

Mom looked at Dad. "It's different now. It's a different kind of love."

Emily was angry. "Is that why you're getting a divorce? Because you don't love each other anymore?"

Dad nodded. "Things aren't the same. Your mom understands but doesn't want to live with another woman."

I wondered about things not being the same. "But, you're still the same, aren't you? You're still going to be my Dad, right? Will you still make chicken fingers for dinner? Will you still wash our clothes? Where will you go?"

Dad looked at me. He just sat there crying.

Mom smiled. "You'll still have chicken fingers, and I will wash your clothes."

"You don't make chicken fingers like Dad does. I guess he can teach you. If Dad is still learning about mascara, will you learn about chicken fingers?"

Mom laughed. "Yes, I can learn about chicken fingers."

"How about fruit roll-ups? Will I start getting fruit roll-ups like Bobby?"