Cousins in arms 3(5) The Zinc

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn and Rosemary.

People swear their vows on their birthdays or for New Years. I couldn’t wait for the New Year. The whole mistaking me for the girl thing was getting old, is why. I had to think about how to change myself for others to see a boy. I was spending a lot of time with girls Melody and Erica, but that was my job and I couldn’t abandon it. Or… There was a thing about me wearing Cindy’s hand-me-downs. Well, she’s a tomboy and a girl so there had to be girly germs that caused others to see me as a girl.

I had my own money now, and I decided to buy some stuff at Wal-Mart that wasn’t pre-owned by any girl before. I started with underwear. I wasn’t wearing Cindy’s underwear. That would be so gross! Our underwear was from the same big-pack though, and it could be girly.

I was rummaging through week-packs of underwear when a saleslady approached.

“May I help you?” she asked.

Well, she really could, but I was embarrassed by the idea of explaining to a stranger that I needed some underwear.

She saw my confusion, I guessed. “Can’t choose what you like?”

“I like plain white,” I said, “and I don’t want it to be girly.”

“Boy shorts then,” she stated.

“I think yes,” I agreed and settled for a week-pack.

“Something more?” the saleslady asked.

“Some socks?” I wasn’t sure about the right names. There’re some things that only girls wear, and I didn’t want to ask for something girly.

“Knee or ankle-high?”

“Knee-highs are for summer when legs are exposed, I guess,” I mused.

“Ankle-high then ; and what color? White?” she inquired.

“Aren’t white too dressy? What other colors do you have?”

“Some colors and even more patterns,” she said leading me to another rack.

It dawned to me then that all the socks were for kids. There were ponies and robots, unicorns and rockets on them.

“I’m not a kid. I’m almost fourteen,” I said to her. She looked at me funny.

“Mom says we, my sis and I, are late-bloomers,” I explained. To be mistaken for a kid was even more embarrassing than to be mistaken for a girl.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t want to embarrass you,” she said. “There are socks that have a denim pattern and they go well with jeans.”

“Those are ok I guess,” I agreed, “but I have olive and camo leggings and I need some socks to go with them too. Would a light-brown match?”

“Definitely,” she said.

I was about to turn to another department. Then the saleslady offered, “We have plain black leggings with fleece inside on sale. They are perfect for winter.”

I liked everything that was on sale, and mmediately after Christmas, there was a lot. T hose were things with seasonal motifs, however.. Who would wear a white sweater with red reindeers in the summer? But black leggings that were not worn by Cindy or mom before? And on sale! I simply couldn’t pass that up. I got some dark grey socks matching them as well.

Then I asked her about tees and sweaters. Wal-Mart isn’t the best place for fashion but it’s not expensive. I was looking for something good to wear to school. The things were almost all ok, but they had some slogans on them and I got the most neutral “Why not” and “Stay real”.

Talking about Christmas motifs. There were a dozen packs of headbands with miniature Santa’s hats attached. The bands were transparent and hats were some four inches, red, and with white fur trim. Nothing real, just some Chinese toy. The pack was twenty before Christmas and it was one dollar now. Why am I talking about it? There was a district competition for dance squads planned on before New Year. It could be some accent for Cindy’s teammates. I took two.

I didn’t want to seem like a freak to the saleslady for buying such a great amount of useless toys. I explained to her why I was doing it.

I went with Cindy to that aforementioned district competition. I wanted to see a show and I had headbands for the girls. Plus, I was here to help Cindy with her make-up – kind of her stylist. Girls’ coach, Mrs. Reece didn’t say anything, but looked at me sheepishly. I suspect she had checked on my gender now, or asked Cindy about it. The girls and Mrs. Reece liked the headbands with Santa hats and it was a very pertinent accent. This was the district competition not state and there were only three squads, and all were nominated as participants. I was mentioned in the final talk as a promising young make-up and costume artist and I got a certificate like all the other participants. The only flaw was that it was issued for Ms. Ariel Spencer.

I said then that starting New Year I’ll turn to more boyish activities.

“Like what?” Mrs. Reece asked.

“Cross country most likely,” I replied.

“Girls don’t run cross country in our school,” she countered.

“I’m not a girl!” I retorted.

I wasn’t joking about cross country. I’d considered seriously what team to join in high school. If I was on the team I wouldn’t need PE class, and could avoid teasing because of my size. Then there was a money problem. Uniforms were provided by the school. The gear for practices was only for bigger teams. There was basketball, baseball, or football, and maybe girls’ volleyball, but to get onto those teams, one had to be an excellent player. I wasn’t. Other teams practiced in what they had. If they wanted to be alike in uniforms, they had to buy or make them. – the same as the dancing squad. Another thing was the summer camp. Almost all athletes were attending summer camps for their sport. Boy, they’re expensive!

I had almost six months to practice to get on the team. Paths in the no-mans land behind the backyard were as good as it could get for cross country running. I could run from home to the interstate, then back to Falmouth drive, and then home. According to the pedometer on my phone, it was four thousand two hundred steps.

The winter was cold but without snow. That was good and bad. Without snow, I hadn’t had to shovel and babysitting was my only job. On the other hand, my running path was clean. Running wasn’t as easy as I’d thought. I was panting heavily getting to the interstate. And that’s onlyone-fourth of the distance. I guessed it’s only in the beginning that it would be hard, and later would be better. It wasn’t.

January wasn’t a nice month. It was cold, dark, and gray. My younger brother, Martin, the one who had Cerebral Palsy, was diagnosed with diabetes. Besides being dangerous, it meant even more expenses, and more time around home. Mom was getting all the groceries, but my duty was getting everything we needed from the pharmacy. I had a special debit card and the lady there, Ms. Tyler, knew me. We got the gadget to measure blood sugar for free, but we had to buy strips that go with it. Oh my, they were expensive! It was good I didn’t have to pay cash for all the pills and supplies. I would be afraid to carry so much money around.

Doc said Martin’s diabetes could be caused by some genes. In other words, Cindy and I were at risk too. We both went through a bunch of tests. Cindy was ok and I was at risk. My insulin level was too low. It wasn’t something serious yet but it could cause low weight and low stamina, like panting while running. Cindy and I were prescribed a lot of vitamins. Not those that come in one enormous pill but individuals. I got zinc to improve my insulin.

At the same time, we found out that Cindy’s friend from school got pregnant. She wasn’t on the dance squad but she was a tomboy like Cindy. Mom went ballistic because she was sure tomboyishness was the best protection. It wasn’t enough. Mom got a birth control prescription for Cindy. She added it to an already tremendous pile of prescriptions I had to take to a pharmacy.

“Don’t forget birth control for your sis,” mom said when I was leaving.

At the pharmacy, I handed all prescriptions to Ms. Tyler. She said she’d fill them for a year because there was a great bulk discount. The pile of prescriptions was converted into a pile of boxes and bottles. I was about to sweep the card when she asked, “Hadn’t your mom asked for something else?”

“Only birth control for sis,” I replied on autopilot.

Ms. Tyler sighed and added another bottle to the pile. She took two cardboard boxes. One marked Cindy and another Ariel. She filled them with bottles and boxes.

“Take one pill each daily, and it’s better in the morning with your breakfast,” Ms. Tyler explained. “The zinc is in solution. Take three drops of it in the glass of water in the morning and before bedtime.”

I had to get used to taking a handful of pills every morning. Those were all vitamins but I felt sick every time I swallowed them.

January ended with a tremendous snowfall. It seemed like compensation for the snowless winter before. I couldn’t run because of the snow and because I had my hands full with my job. I was shoveling the snow twice a day. The first time was in the morning as early as at five o’clock. The next time was after school, somewhere about threeish. The snow shoveling was interfering with babysitting. I’d skipped two weekends of shoveling. Then some people decided for another boy to clean their driveways. Not a big loss. I was getting much more babysitting and I couldn’t afford to quit, because of a temporary snow job.

In March, it wasn’t snowing anymore but my running path was still in snow and mud. I was forced to run the streets. There I met two girls running in the mornings. They were ninth-graders – Shauna and Julie from Cindy’s school. They helped me a lot explaining the tactics of a long-distance run. I thought there were none before. I was simply running as fast as I could and was exhausted quickly. They helped me to improve my running habits, but I was still panting heavily after the run and so were Julie and Shauna.

The weather was getting warmer, and my cross country track was already dry. I switched to it and was running in solitude again.

Then one morning a strange thing happened. It started raining during my morning run and I returned home earlier than usual. At home, I met dad before he left for his job. Don’t laugh! Dad’s working a lot. On Saturdays, he does some home repairs, and on Sundays he sleeps in. It’s not his fault we don’t see him much around home. So, he was getting ready to leave and noticed me coming home.

“Why don’t you run on the street like the other kids? Isn’t your running path too dirty?” he asked.

“I’m practicing for cross-country.”

“Oh, I see. Do you know that running isn’t enough for cross-country?”

“Why? ”

“To avoid tripping you need to improve your balance and flexibility. Start practicing jumps, tricking, and stretches. Ask for summer gym classes at school.”