I often think about the summer of my 6th year. I remember it vaguely, of course, but I still remember some of it.

I remember my first crush, the sixteen year-old girl named Alyssa that ended up marrying my brother Sam. She was beautiful to me then, and she is beautiful to me now - two children and all. They married young, even when our mothers were against it.

I remember before her the most, though. When my older brother Sam came home with blue hair and a piece of metal stuck in his chin. I remember hearing our mother scream out him and him screaming back, only for both of them to end up in tears.

The next day, I had asked him about his blue hair. It had fascinated me.

"How did you grow blue hair, Sam?" I had asked. I didn't know about hair- dye yet.

"It's a part of a genetic code that only bastards have." He had replied. He smiled bitterly after that, probably at my perplexed expression.

"Oh." I had said. "What's a bastard?" He smirked wider and told me to ask our mom. When I did, she looked at me hard and told me never to say that word again. She said that Sam wasn't a bastard and neither was I.

I have blue hair now.

I remember the summer of my 6th year by the yelling and crying. There was lots of yelling and crying, even by George and other men that seemed to tough to cry. My dad used to tell my brother and me that crying was for queers. My brother called Sam queer for crying and wearing make-up and my mother slapped him.

Now he calls me queer because I wear make-up and cry a lot, but he's too big for my mother to slap anymore.

Sam's dad built a house the summer of my 6th year. My brothers and I helped, though it was mostly Sam doing the work. I remember there was a lot of yelling and crying when Sam and George started, but there had only been crying when Sam finished.

I didn't know then, but I know now. George had died that summer and my mother stopped being there for a while. She was so empty for so long and it scared my brothers, but I was too young to understand. Not anymore.

Sam changed after that summer, but it was gradual. He still did things to piss off our mom - though I suspect now that it was just to get her to feel something. He went back to blue hair and pierced ears and Alyssa stayed overnight a lot. He still listened to music so loud you could hear it outside, but it seemed happier a little. If Marilyn Manson could ever be happy.

He grew up that summer - his 16th summer - and now it's my turn. My 16th summer. But I don't have George for a dad, I have Peter. Peter would never build a house and I don't think he loves me as much as George loved Sam. I don't mind that much because George was more of a father to me the summer of my 6th year than Peter ever was my whole life.

I still think blue hair is the genetic code for bastards. And I think that scares my mom.

---

The teacher looked up from the paper and saw the boy walking outside. Blue and black hair, pierced face, baggy pants and tight shirts. He saw a former student in that picture, but he knew that it wasn't. The similarities were just uncanny. Somehow, though, he knew. This boy grew up long before he reached his 16th year.

He shook his head and placed a 49/50 on top of the paper. He didn't believe in giving perfect grades.