Lyrics to Sun Don't Shine in the Hood by The Furious Five (1994)
The following afternoon, Lisa sat in fourth period English class and gazed absently out the window. A leafy oak tree happened to be in her line of sight and she watched it with cool disinterest. A gray and white squirrel darted up its gnarled trunk and ran joyously through its boughs, looking for all the world like a lunatic search for the mind it lost. Lisa tried to judge its weight and length through a quick and slipshod scientific method, but it was too far away. She silently cursed her nearsightedness and turned her attention (or lack thereof) back to the front of the room, where the teacher, a fat woman with frizzy red hair, read from a slender tome of American short stories.
Lisa possessed a titanic intellect and adored the poetic form, but she was not a fan of fiction, even at its shortest. There was nothing wrong with it per se, she simply did not click with it the way some people simply didn't click with math or science. She could devour poem after poem like a fat woman eating bon bons, but novels and short stories bored her to tears. Thus, she was forced to rank English as her least favorite class, even though it included poetry. Poetry was to English class what a drop of pure, sparkling water was to a vat of corrosive acid: By no means present in enough quantities to change the fundamental composition of the poison in which it found itself. She was never more bored than she was when a book was thrust into her hand, and she dreaded assigned reading the way some might dread electrocution. If she was going to invest significant time and effort into reading, it had to be about a topic that engrossed her, not about two cities she cared nothing for, laughable pseudo-science, Hobbits, ghosts, or normal people doing normal things and grappling with normal problems.
She did not understand the appeal of that last category. What was so interesting about romance, for instance? She had tried several times to read one of those lurid paperbacks with Fabio on the cover but they failed to hold her focus and her mind began to drift after two or three pages. She would think about upcoming school projects, that last pudding cup in the fridge, her top five favorite scientific theories, and about all the other things she would rather be doing instead of reading a book with a pink cover. If the writing was especially verbose, she would pick it apart in minute detail and poke fun of it to herself. Sex scenes were the worst, so purple, so damn wordy, and every word was downright laugable. He toucheth her quivering bosom and guided his manhood into her garden of - ugh, you sound like an idiot. With pretentious. The worst kind!
Mercifully, the bell rang, putting English class out of its misery, and Lisa gathered her things and went to her locker. She shoved her books in, took out her backpack, and slung it over her shoulder, stumbling because it was so heavy; she had homework from three classes, including a four page math quiz specially prepared for her by the teacher with input from the local college. See, Lisa was at such an advanced level in math and science that most of her work came directly from professors and mathematicians who had made a game out of trying to stump her. Work at her grade level simply did not challenge her and the school decided that she needed something more. The work she presently got took her all of five minutes to complete.
Technically, Lisa could advance all the way to twelfth grade and graduate in a matter of months but she did not wish to do so. She wanted to lead as normal a life as possible until such time as she entered university. She would have all the time in the world to study, excel, and research later on. For now, she valued attaining all the normal experiences of someone her age, such as prom, summer vacation, and the like.
Among those normal experiences that she wished to have was obtaining a boyfriend. Not that she was overly concerned with such, but romantic endeavors were certainly a facet of a normal adolescence. She did, however, have something of a crush on her classmate and sometimes friend, sometimes rival David. He was almost - but not quite - as intelligent as her, and when they put aside their desire to best the other, they got on quite well. If they could tolerate one another - for it is common knowledge that people who are too much alike tend to clash - they could become a couple.
She was in no hurry for that to happen, however. She did not suffer from a hormone-driven fixation on sex and intimacy the way many of her poor, beknighted peers did. They were little savages governed by their hearts and their bodies; Lisa was governed by her brain. Her heart and body had input, of course, but they were not in control as they were with so many other people.
Outside, the afternoon was bright and blustery. A chilly breeze knocked leaves from the trees along Schoolhouse Road and pushed litter across the pavement. Lisa walked home, dropped her backpack off on the porch, and walked to Dino's, finding him alone on the corner. He took swigs from an oversized can of Steel City Reserve and bobbed his head as if to music only he could hear. He saw Lisa and nodded. "What it do? You ready to learn how to be gangsta?"
"I am," Lisa said gamely.
"'Remember what I told you? You the only nigga out here who matter."
"I recall," she said. "I have been pondering the individualistic nature of life in the hood and -"
"Shut yo ass up," Dino said. "Niggas don't talk like they educated. I done told you that too. You a dumb motherfucka."
Lisa started to speak but Dino cut her off. "Listen to what I'mma tell you and don't talk back or I'mma smack yo face, feel me?"
All Lisa could do was nod.
"Niggas don't talk like that. Niggas don't talk about Star Trek and shit even if they like it. You know why that is? You wan' take a guess?"
Could she provide a theory? Yes. Did she want to?
No.
"Out here in the hood, street smarts take precedence over book smarts. Book smarts don't help yo ass here, street smarts do. You gotta project street smarts. Ain't nothin wrong with bein book smart but if niggas out here see that first, they ain't gon' respect you. Just like some science niggas ain't gon respct you if you project street to them, feel me? You gotta know when to project yo'self. In college, be book, out here, be street."
Lisa had never thought of it like that, but even as Dino spoke, understanding dawned over her.
"You gon be street right now."
He grabbed a black man passing by and spun him around so that they were face to face. The man tried to pull away, but Dino wrapped his big paws around the man's neck and squeezed. The man's knees went out and he sank to them, Dino guiding him down. Lisa watched in shock. "Take this nigga wallet."
"W-What?"
"Take this nigga wallet," Dino said. "You got six kids to feed and you ain't got no money. You need to get paid and this nigga gon be yo ATM."
The man clawed at Dino's hands, and Dino squeezed tighter. He shot Lisa a commanding look and Lisa cringed. "Do it, nigga."
Perhaps Lisa was weak, but she did not want to rob a man.
She was determined to become "street" however.
Going over, she rifled through the man's pockets and found his wallet. She took a step back and Dino shoved the man to the pavement. "Kick rocks, nigga."
"Man, that's my money, come on. I got my rent and EBT card in there."
"Wrong, nigga. We got yo money and EBT card in there."
The man struggled to his feet, and Dino lunged at him. Screaming, he ran across the street, holding his baggy jeans up and looking over his shoulder.
"I feel bad now," Lisa said, then chuckled. "But I also feel strong."
Dino clapped her on the back and she stumbled forward. "That's how robbin niggas is supposed to feel. Now come on, we got work to do."
Morning light crept over Lynn's eyelids and she winced. She stirred, cuddled closer to Lincoln, and gave his chest a sleepy kiss. At some point in the night, they moved to her bed and had sex again. It was a hazy, dream-like coupling, neither of them awake but neither fully asleep either. Lynn knew even then, as she drifted off in his arms for the second time, that she would have no regrets come morning. And from the way Lincoln kissed her forehead before cradling her to sleep, she didn't think he would either.
Now, hours later, she looked up at him and smiled warmly. His eyes were open but blurred with sleep. "Good morning."
"Good morning," he said.
What should she say next? What could she say next?
Nothing, that's what.
She snuggled his chest and drifted on the verge of sleep for a while until Lincoln stirred. "I gotta take a shower," he said.
"Yeah, I gotta get ready too."
Her first class was at 9:30.
They got up and went their separate ways, Lincoln to the shower and Lynn to the kitchen. She paused to pull her shirt on but went bottomless. Her pelvis was pleasantly sore and her knees shaky from the night before; she scratched her stomach and specks of dried cum flaked to the floor like dandruff. Did he pull out the second time? She slipped her hand between her legs but didn't feel anything out of the ordinary.
She put on a pot of coffee and was just putting some bread into the toaster when someone knocked on the door. Lynn went to answer it but remembered she was half naked. "Wait a minute," she called. She scrambled around the living room looking for her underwear but couldn't find them. She spotted the pair of shorts she gave to Lincoln, pulled them on, and unlocked the handle.
Her friend Wanda from the girls' basketball team shouldered past her and came in. "Man, I'm hungry. You got anything to eat?"
If possible, Wanda looked skinnier than she had at practice the other day, which couldn't be possible since she never stopped eating. What she lacked in weight, she more than made up for in height. She stood over six feet tall and made Lynn feel a shrimp. Today, she wore a blue and red tracksuit; her pale brown hair was plastered to her forehead and her sunken cheeks were flushed from her morning run.
She opened the fridge and took out a plate of chicken covered in Saran wrap. "There we go," she said. She went to the counter, sat the plate down, and dug in.
Wanda was the Kramer to Lynn's Jerry. That is, Wanda, who lived three doors down, barged in any old time she felt like it. Well...she knocked, but once that door was open, all bets were off; she tackled harder crossing the threshold than she did on the football field.
"Jogging doesn't work if you stuff your face right after," Lynn said.
"Do I look like I'm worried about gaining weight?" Wanda asked around a mouthful of food.
"Guess not."
Wanda nodded. "I -"
She stopped.
"What?" Lynn asked.
"You have company last night?"
Lynn tilted her head in confusion. "What?"
Wanda jutted her chin toward the living room and Lynn followed her light of site. Lincoln's underwear lay in a heap on the floor. "No," Lynn said quickly, "thats -"
"I hear the shower," Wanda said and swallowed. "He's still here."
"It's my brother."
No sooner had the words left Lynn's mouth than Lincoln called out from the bathroom. "My dick is so sore. You really did a number on it last night."
Wanda spat out a wad of chicken and started to choke, and Lynn's heart dropped to her stomach. She hadn't met him a ton of times, but Wanda knew Lincoln by sight. If she recognized his voice or was still here when he came out…
"I knew it," Wanda said and swallowed, "you got lucky last night. What's his name? Is he big?'
Before Lynn could even formulate a game plan, the shower cut off.
"You have to go," she blurted.
"Oh, come on, I -"
The crinkle of the shower curtain opening rang through Lynn's head.
She grabbed Wanda's arm and yanked her toward the door. Wanda yelped in surprise, then tried to pull away. "Wait!"
"You have to leave now," Lynn said through her teeth. Wanda was thin but she was strong; Lynn's arm's straind, her feet slid, and the muscles in her neck throbbed like fat leeches sucking blood from a dying animal. "Let go!"
"No! Wait! Stop! I just gotta - "
"Get out of my house, bitch."
Wanda reached out as if to grab onto the counter for leverage, but instead snatched the plate.
Her resistance slackened, and Lynn dragged her to the door.
"I'm taking this with me," she said and crammed a drumstick into her mouth.
Lynn shoved her out the door. "Have it."
She slammed the door and leaned heavily against it with a deep sigh of relief. Lincoln came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and a puzzled expression on his face. "Was someone here?"
Whew, that was close.
"They're gone now," Lynn said and went to the toast. Lincoln looked like he was going to say something, but he shrugged and returned to the bathroom instead. When he came back a few minutes later, dressed in yesterday's clothes, Lynn was sitting on the couch with a mug of coffee in her hands and a plate stacked with toast balanced on her lap. Another cup waited for Lincoln on the coffee table, steam curling over the ceramic lip.
Lincoln dropped onto the couch next to her and picked up the mug. "I couldn't find my underwear."
"They're right there," Lynn said and nodded at them. "They almost got us caught."
He looked at her funny, and she explained what happened. As she talked, Lincoln munched toast and washed it down with coffee. When she was done, he looked her dead in the face and said, "You had chicken?"
"Yes, I did," Lynn said, "and I almost had my best friend find out I banged my brother."
Lincoln nodded understandingly. "Yeah, that would suck."
Something about his nonchalance struck her as odd, and it occurred to her just how surreal this was. She and her brother did something so freaking major, and here they were eating toast and acting like nothing happened at all. She was worried when she thought Wanda was about to find out, but she felt no disgust, shame, or regret. She looked at Lincoln's face, really looked at him for the first time that morning, and didn't see any shame or remorse there either. There was none of the tension or awkwardness you'd expect between siblings who'd just had sex with each other (twice!).
This felt...normal, and that made it feel weird.
Should they talk about this?
They probably should, she decided.
That didn't happen. Instead, they wound up in bed, Lincoln pinning her ankles above her head and slimming into her. Lynn's eyes rolled back into her head and her tongue flopped out of her mouth, lending her the appearance of a dog getting its belly scratched. Lincoln's dick spread her walls and pounded her cervix so hard it hurt, but every time his tip stroked her G-Spot, her toes curled. Being held down, unable to move and totally at her little brother's mercy, was hotter than anything she had ever done, and when she came, she came hard. Her body clamped down on Lincoln's dick and her mind scattered in a thousand different directions. Lincoln pumped once, twice, three times, then pulled out. Hot cum splattered her face, and she opened her mouth to catch it on her tongue. It was slick, salty, and good, and after swallowing, she licked it from her lips.
Lincoln rolled off of her and they lay side by side, both sweating, panting, and sticky with the other's fluids. Lynn crossed her legs and ran her hands over her chest, finding a few drops of cum that she missed. "We're gonna be so late," Lincoln said.
"Yeah," she replied and took his hand, "but it's worth it."
They looked at each other and smiled.
Then had sex again.
For nearly a week, DIno instructed Lisa in what he called "The Way of the Gangsta." Every day after school, she would meet him on the corner and they would spend several hours together. He taught her how to walk, how to talk, and how to project an air of unshakable self-confidence. He showed her movies and told her stories. "If you ain't gon' die or to jail, it's worth it," he said about standing up for one's self. He told her that in this mad scramble for success and personal fulfillment, everyone will try to step on you. "They all out for they selves. You out for you. And you gotta be firm with it cuz they gon' be."
For homework, she watched fight videos from World Star Hip Hop and practiced what he had taught her in school. When one of the blonde, snooty popular girls cut in front of her in the lunch line, she didn't let it go the way she would have before. "Uh...excuse me? I was standing here." She weaved her head and gestured with her finger.
"Too bad," the girl said.
"Bitch, you don't know who you fuckin with," Lisa said, channeling her inner Dino. "I will whip yo ass right now in front of all yo lil friends."
The girl turned around and looked Lisa up and down. "I'd like to see you t -"
Lisa surprised herself by slapping the girl as hard as she could. The girl's head whipped to one side and spittle flew from her lips. All of the other kids went dead silent. The girl started to cry and ran away. Lisa felt really good about herself…
...then not so good when she got detention.
She told Dino, and he laughed until he wept. "Bet she won't do that dumb shit again."
And he was right, she didn't. Everyone in school afforded her the wariness with which one might treat a potentially rabid dog. They gave her a wide berth in the hall and if they convinced her in any way, they profusely apologized lest she beat them up the way she had that poor soul who dared talk back to her.
On the day before the talent show, Lisa met with Dino one last time. He sat on the stoop of his building with a Colt 45 and a ghetto blaster so old it ate for free at Denny's. Music thumped from the speakers and Dino nodded along to it.
Decked in the eye
You should know why
You came on my block, fool, and tried to be fly
I need an alibi
Chillin in the hood
Drink forties with my boys
Come on, fellas, make some noise
"I want to thank you for all you've done for me," Lisa said.
"It's all good," Dino said.
She clasped her hands behind her back and cast her gaze coyly to her feet. She had come to greatly admire and respect Dino but it wasn't hood to admit that. "My performance is tomorrow," she said. "If you'd like to attend."
His attending would mean a great deal to her, though she doubted he would.
"I got shit to do tomorrow," he said, "you got this, though." He thrust out his fist and Lisa bumped it.
"I'll try to make you proud."
The next afternoon, before the show, she dressed in the girls' locker room behind the gym. She wore baggy jeans, a green basketball jersey with a white 01 across the chest, a gold chain, and a sideways snapback. She stood in front of the mirror and took a series of deep breaths. As psyched as she could get, she went to the gym, getting there just as the lights went down. Several dozen people sat on metal folding chairs on the basketball court and watched the first act with polite patience, each one of them caring only for their own child's performance. Lisa spotted her parents in the front row, waiting for her to go on just as the other parents were waiting on their own son or daughter to go on.
Backstage, Lisa stood in a line with the other children while a teacher with a clipboard waved each successive performer onto the stage. When Lisa's turn came, she went through the curtain.
The lights were hot and blinding, and though she could sense fifty sets of eyes boring into her, she could not see them or to whom they were attached. She walked up to the mic and took it off the stand. She opened her mouth to speak, but froze up.
God, no, not stage fright.
She gaped like a fish and grasped for something to save her.
The lights moved ever so slightly and she was able to see the back row. The door opened, and in walked Dino, wearing a pair of shades and a bandanna. He stood in the aisle and crossed his arms over his chest. His words came back to her and the icy fear that had taken hold of her melted away.
No one gon' help you. No one gon' give you what you need. You gotta hustle. You gotta believe in yo self. You learn real quick not to give a fuck what other niggas think.
She looked at the stage manager waiting in the wings and nodded. The stage manager stuck a tape into a boombox and a generic backing beat began to play. Lisa raised the microphone to her lips and started to spit.
"I'm MC Lisa, I'm on the mic
I'm here to tell you bout a stupid dyke
My sister Lola's a blonde hair witch
She think she the shit but she really just a bitch
Does nothing but cry and get her way
Stomp her feet, she's so fucking gay
Got nothing nice to do, nothing nice to say
You think you're all that, bitch you ain't
Sometimes I wanna kick you in your fucking taint
Now's the time, I'm gonna let you know
You suck, you're lame, you fucking blow
Get on your knees, girl, eat my ass
I'm sick of how you always harass
Stay out my room, keep my name off your lips
Or I'll sever your vocal cords with a pair of snips
You're nothing but a little daddy's girl
A snooty little bitch in a poor man's world
Go to hell, Lola, I'm done with yo ass
You're cheap, you're petty, your face is trash
You lack empathy, integrity and class
Step off and die, you're not the one that I want
You're no friend or sister, you're just a stupid cunt."
Lisa crossed her arms. "Peace."
Shocked silence filled the room. The audience gaped. Mom pressed her hand to her mouth and Lola looked like she was about to start crying.
Finally, Dino began to clap. "Goddamn," he yelled, "you roasted the shit out that bitch!" He clapped some guy on the back and almost knocked him out of his seat. "I taught that girl everything she know."
Lisa beamed with pride.
Then got detention again.
But it was worth it in the end.
Fuck Lola.
For two weeks, Lynn and Lincoln hid their relationship. And for two weeks, it blossomed.
Every night after Lincoln got home, they would cuddle on the couch and watch TV. If Lincoln's back hurt from work, Lynn would give him a deep tissue massage, and if her feet were sore, he would rub them until she was drooling and falling asleep. Lynn wasn't exactly what you would call a cook...or a cleaner...or domesticated, but there was something deeply satisfying about making him dinner and spending quiet evenings with him on the couch. Each day, whether she had a game, a practice drill, or nothing at all, she would rush home, excited to be with her brother. Wanda and all the other girls on her team noticed the change, and Wanda blabbed her big, fat mouth, so they picked on her mercilessly like a bunch of middle school kids. Hey, Lynn, how's your BOYFRIEND? Wanda would ask as Lynn hurriedly dressed in the locker room after practice. At first, Lynn denied having a boyfriend...then she owned it, loud and proud. He's hot, he's sweet, and he's good in bed.
When can we meet him? another girl asked.
Lynn's stomach knotted. Uh...maybe later.
All throughout their time at MSU together, Lynn and Lincoln had been close, gravitating toward one another as two people who know each other are wont to do in unfamiliar surroundings. They weren't joined at the hip but all of Lynn's friends had at least seen Lincoln, and most of Lincoln's friends had seen Lynn. There was no way they could pretend to be anything other than siblings.
That wasn't easy, though. When they were walking across campus together, Lynn would unthinkingly grab his hand, and whenever they parted for the day, she would try to sneak a kiss from him. One day, she did so and a second later, her friend Amanda from the team walked up. "Oh, is this your boyfriend?" She saw who it really was and laughed. "Oh, nevermind, it's your brother. Hahahahaha. I thought you were kissing him but you must have been doing something else."
Lynn and Lincoln exchanged an uneasy glance. "Yeah," Lynn said, "something else."
One day, Lynn walked Lincoln to the cafeteria's staff entrance. He started to go inside, but she pushed him against the wall and attacked him with hungry kisses. He grabbed her butt and pulled her tight against him, and Lynn slipped her hand between them to feel and fondle his crotch. They were getting hot and heavy when the door opened and Lincoln's friend Roger came out holding a bag of trash. "Hey, what are you two…?"
They pulled away from each other and Lynn hid her face. In the gathering gloom, Roger didn't recognize her. "Sorry to interrupt but there are dishes piling up and I need my spatula back."
"Yeah, okay, sorry," Lincoln said.
On days that neither one of them had anything to do in the afternoon, they would go to the cafeteria for dinner, and though she tried really hard not to, Lynn would gaze lovingly into her brother's eyes, twirl her hair around her finger, laugh too loud at his corny jokes, and touch his hand when she didn't think anyone was looking.
Lincoln wasn't innocent either. A few times as they stood in line for their trays, he would put his hands on her hips or circle his arms around her stomach. When he did that, she would melt against him without realizing she was doing it.
She wasn't a biology expert, but she was fully aware that their body language was unmistakably that of lovers, and suggested that they limit their interactions in public.
That didn't work because absence makes the heart grow fonder, and when she did see him, it wasn't just hard to keep from touching and kissing him, it was impossible. By the beginning of the second week, they avoided each other like their names were Trump and Biden. Lynn had known no greater pain than not being with Lincoln, and every second of the day was agony. She constantly thought about him, constantly missed him, constantly looked forward to going home and being in his arms. Focusing on her classwork was out the window, concentrating on the game was virtually out of the question. She stumbled, missed passes, tripped, and gathered wool on the sidelines - wool that was snowy and white just like Lincoln's hair.
It was difficult to be passionate about anything because all of her passion was going to Lincoln. How could her love of sports compare to her love of Lincoln? Everything else was a tiny, twinkling star, Lincoln was the sun, and the sun shone far, far brighter than anything else. Basketball, her studies, her everything stopped mattering; only Lincoln mattered. She didn't even get up early and jog anymore. Why would she? Getting out of bed used to be nothing, but now, with Lincoln next to her, it was like severing her own arm: Not something she wanted to do. At all.
A few days after the fire, Lincoln was able to get into his room and get all of his things. Thankfully, the flames didn't reach his dorm and he didn't have to replace anything. The dean of the school assigned all of the students displaced by the fire to other buildings. Lincoln's new dorm was right next to the cafeteria, but he rarely ever slept there.
Two weeks and three days following the fire, Lynn's birthday came around, sneaking up on her from the ether like a black clad cat burglar. That morning, Lincoln surprised her with breakfast in bed. And not some rinky-dink little breakfast of cold cereal, either, no; there were eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, and sausage. "I was up for hours making it," he said.
"It's really good,' she said honestly. She shoved a strip of bacon into her mouth and crunched it between her teeth. "You're a better cook than I am."
Was he, or did it taste so good because her love made it?
Did it really matter?
After she was done, Lincoln took the tray away, came back, and got between her legs. He pulled her panties off, tossed them aside, and fixed her with that cocky, busted tooth smile that never failed to make her heart race. A devilish grin spread across her face when she realized what he was going to do, and she spread her legs for him. Slipping his hands under her butt, he brought his lips to her opening and kissed her quaking folds. He darted his tongue out and tasted her, and Lynn's heart jumped into her throat. She lifted her hips and Lincoln swirled the tip of his tongue around her clit. Lynn's eyelids fluttered and she clamped down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. She rocked against Lincoln's face, her juices openly flowing down her chin and the insides of her thighs. Her heart raced, her spine tingled, every pleasure sensor in her body began to crack and pop and sizzle.
Lincoln sucked her clit into his mouth and a gasp tore from Lynn's throat. She ran her fingers through her hair, tugged like a madwoman, and then clutched the sheet. She thrust her hips faster, faster, head back, eyes closed, teeth bared. She wrapped her legs around Lincoln's head and drew him deeper into her middle. His tongue squirmed in her core and she started to come undone.
Just then, the door opened. Lincoln and Lynn both jumped and turned to face it.
All of Lynn's teammates were there, one holding a birthday cake. They gaped in horror, eyes wide and jaws slack. Wanda slapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh, my fucking God."
Lynn snapped her legs closed and Lincoln furiously wiped her fluids off his mouth. "It's not what it looks like," Lynn blurted.
"Isn't that her brother?" one of the girls asked another.
"I think it is," another whispered.
The girl holding the cake looked uncomfortable. She sat it on the edge of the bed. "We, uh, we'll just leave this right here." She hurried out, and the others followed, most of them shooting disgusted and horrified looks over their shoulders.
When they were gone, Lynn hung her head.
Lincoln picked the cake up and dipped his finger in the frosting.
Damn it.
Now everyone knew she was a brother fucking weirdo and her life was ruined.
Then again, as long as she had Lincoln…
As they kissed, touched, and ate cake, Lynn and Lincoln made a decision.
"We better change schools," Lynn said.
And this time, no one would know they were brother and sister.
THE END.