12. The Shirt

 It was a hot summer day,

blistering hot.

The boys whipped off their shirts.

I wanted to, too.

I wanted that taste of freedom.

I wanted that airy feeling.

And so I whipped mine off too.

 

It didn’t last,

and it didn’t taste like freedom.

My sister took me aside.

“You should put your shirt back on.”

I already knew.

Of course, I knew

but it wasn't fair.

I was as flat-chested as any boy with us.

So why?

Why did I

have to put my shirt back on?