"Well, c'mon in. Sorry 'bout the mess. Original Cindy ain't cleaned up in awhile," she admitted, showing both Mom and I inside.

"This was your apartment?" I whispered to Mom in disbelief. She nodded and approached Cindy, who was rapidly picking up all sorts of clothes.

I lingered as Mom began to talk to Cindy and looked out the window. "Yes," Mom was saying, "this is the baby I left with." The baby. I didn't know if I should be happy that was referred to so casually, or angry. Didn't matter anyhow. The conversation continued in the background as I rested against the chipped wall, staring down at the ground through the streaked window.

Below, people walked and talked amongst themselves, keeping busy and going on with their daily lives. They had normal lives, truly normal lives, for they were truly normal people. What I would have given to be them just for one day! Not having to worry about the annoying things that came along with my genetics. Never having to glance over my shoulder to see if someone was after me-not that it truly would've mattered, for I could have kicked anybody's ass if provoked.

I sighed to myself and crossed my arms over my T-shirt. Could they see me from so far below? Could they see the girl staring at them from above? The girl with the brown hair with golden streaks, piercing green eyes accompanied by rosy cheeks and always pouting lips? Did they see the height I displayed at close to six feet tall? No, they never could and never would. The thought sadden me slightly that I looked so much like them, but would never be one of them.

Mom tapping me gently on the shoulder interrupted my thoughts. "Alanza," she said in a low undertone, "you should probably shave." I felt myself burn with embarrassment of having to explain to Cindy that I needed to shave. No, not my legs or my armpits or even my freaking bikini line. No, just my entire body.

"But…uh…" I stuttered.

"She knows," Mom told me as Cindy busied herself preparing what looked like to be some leftover casserole. I paused, and stared at Cindy, getting into the girl's mind. I turned back to Mom, having a good summary of what Cindy was thinking.

"Yeah? And she thinks I'm a freak." Mom muttered that I should head to the bathroom, saying that there should be a razor in there.

I walked slowly into the bathroom. There was a single tub with a few cupboards and a sink. All of the things were aged and close to collapsing. I wondered how much longer I could live in the apartment without having it come crashing down on me.

Sure enough, there was a pink razor lying on the corner of the bathtub. Yuck, yuck, yuck, I thought as I rinsed it off. Mental note to self: remember to buy a pack of razors before leaving on a trip.

Quickly, I whizzed the razor along the surface of my skin. Indeed, a light fuzz, much like the kind along the very bottom of your hairline, but not as long, had grown on my lightly tanned skin.

I laughed quietly to myself, remembering the time when Mom had first explained to me why I was the way I was. It had happened at school because Mom and Dad both believed that I needed to be educated, and they figured that since I didn't have a barcode, Lydecker wasn't going to spot me. Still, at the lunch table in, oh, it must've been fifth or sixth grade, something like that, my friends were talking about shaving and stuff. Why? Who knows, shaving was more or less something that just pushed us further into that realm that our moms inhabited.

Anyhow, one of my friends was saying that she had just started shaving. Everyone was rather, shall I say, impressed? I wanted to get some of that attention so I said that I had been shaving for as long as I could remember. Needless to say, I got much more than some weird looks.

Coming home in tears, Mom had to explain as much as my little mind could handle at that time. We switched school districts that very day for fear that Lydecker was going to start snooping about.

Were my parents paranoid? Perhaps, but then, I've never met Lydecker, so I can't tell you if they needed to be.

I finished shaving quickly and tossed the razor in the trash and got dressed. Sigh. And how many other people had to shave close to their entire body because they grow cat hair?

None.