Charlie wasn’t a knobble-kneed vole, needing a regular escape into boyhood. He would never belch or give high fives or say ‘dude.’Charlie didn�...t play make belief, he was the real thing.Thinking of him as a him felt out of place. When Charlie wore a lumpy sweat suit, he was a girl – small, angelic, gracious. Even when Charlie was naked, showing his tiny pink-tipped penis, he was a girl. He moved like liquid, he smiled like a cherub, and his laugh was made of the same tingling silver as his. 'You're the only guy I've ever met who would dare use phony Southern charm on a black girl called Lincoln. It's like being in another world. Lead on, Rhett.' She looked pretty happy though, and when we were back on the sidewalk she slipped her hand into mine. I promised myself we'd stay strolling, not galloping: no point in falling at the last fence.I don't think Annie ever took my hand except once, and that was after her dad died, right before she left town. Turned out he'd been kinda sick for. More

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