maybe if he shaved it off and started over, his hair would grow back neatly in place.
His eyebrows were becoming heavier, and I noticed a new slimness about his body. He was growing taller.
When he looked around, he must have thought I would start crying again, for he said, “Show you something if you won’t tell anybody.”
I said what. He unbuttoned his shirt, grinning shyly. “Well what?” “Well can’t you see it?”
“Well no.” “Well it’s hair.” “Where?” “There. Right there.”
He had been a comfort to me, so I said it looked lovely, but I didn’t see anything. “It’s real nice, Jem.”
“Under my arms, too,” he said. “Goin‘ out for football next year. Scout, don’t let Aunty aggravate you.”
It seemed only yesterday that he was telling me not to aggravate Aunty.
“You know she’s not used to girls,” said Jem, “leastways, not girls like you. She’s trying to make you a lady.”
“Can’t you take up sewin‘ or somethin’?” “Hell no. She doesn’t like me, that’s all there is to it, and I don’t care.”
It was her callin‘ Walter Cunningham trash that got me goin’, Jem, not what she said about being a problem to Atticus.
We got that all straight one time, I asked him if I was a problem and he said not much of one,
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