I wish I had my big sisterâs hair. Hers is soft and light. Touching her arms is like touching peach fuzz. When she sweats her skin looks like melted butter. Itâs not fair. My hair is thick, wiry, and black as spider legs. Iâm only thirteen and I have thicker hair on my arms and legs than most boys on the Tanglewood Junior High football team.
Iâm writing this while I still have control of my body. There needs to be a record of whatâs happening to me, so if it happens to you, at least youâll knowâyouâre not alone. I canât explain whatâs going on. I canât offer any answers. But I can give you this warningâOBEY THE PATTERN. If it comes, whatever the pattern tells youâdo it. Or youâll end up like me.
Scratching an itch on my back, I found a hollow the size of a tack head. At my bathroom mirror I rolled my shoulder forward. Next to my shoulder blade, on my upper middle back, was a tiny hole. No plug, like a normal blackhead, but a deep hole. I watched my finger in the mirror, prodding it.
