Emma came downstairs. "What's wrong, James?" she asked.
What's right? I thought, but didn't say. "All of a sudden, my shoes are too big for my feet."
"Hang on," she said, and ran back upstairs.
Two minutes later, she ran back downstairs, holding a pair of shoes. "Try these."
With nothing to lose, I did. My feet slid into these shoes as if they had been custom made for me. In no mood to ask questions, or even to examine the shoes, I just said, "Thanks," and left the house.
Halfway between my house and the bus stop, my hips erupted in pain. When the pain subsided, I could tell my hips had grown wider. "What is happening to me today? And why?"
I continued on my way, only to discover that the way I walked had acquired a distinct swivel. It's like I'm turning... I refused to complete the thought. That just doesn't happen. It doesn't!
I walked the rest of the way to the bus stop, got on the bus, and rode to school, ignoring the way my hips swayed. Then, at school, I ignored the stares I was getting.
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