I ran a hand through her wet hair.“Do you dry your hair?” I asked.“Sometimes.” She was surprised.“Okay sit up,” I pointed her to the edge ...f the bed. I dug out the hairdryer someone had left and an extension, knelt behind her and started blowing it over her head. I gently raked up her hair and played the warm plume over it, combing through it with my fingers.Faye sat there, bemused, while I dried her straight, brown, barely-shoulder-length hair. When her hair was all dry and fluffy I kissed. I mean, once you get to use to being called something you don’t like, you eventually will get use to it, right? In North America your name can be your critic, but in the end it really doesn’t matter. “Let’s go downstairs and eat,” I looked at her. “Mom made us Chinese pancakes,” i let out a grin.“GImmie a piggy back ride?” Yumi looked up at me.“Sure sis, but then you needa clean my room.”“WHAT?! NO WAY JEFF!” she grunted.“Just kidding sis, hop on,” i kneeled on the floor, signalling her to get. More

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