Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

spent all his waking hours in the sun, his hair would lighten until it was almost the color of almonds.
    "Today's your birthday," he declared, ignoring my complaints. "I'm supposed to give you sixteen pats on your backside and one for good luck."
    "You are not. Who told you that?"
    "Raymond Sanders."
    "Well you just tell him to slap himself sixteen times. Get out of my bed and go back to your room so I can get dressed," I ordered. He sat up, folding the blanket over his lap, and peered at me with those dark, inquisitive eyes.
    "What kind of presents do you think you will get? You will get hundreds and hundreds of presents. So many people are coming to your party," he added, his hands out, palms up.
    "Jefferson, it's not polite to think about your presents. It's nice enough that all these people are coming, some from very far away. Now get out of here before I call Daddy," I said, pointing toward the door.
    "Will you get a lot of toys?" he asked anxiously, his eyes filled with expectation.
    "I hardly think so. I'm sixteen, Jefferson, not six."
    He smirked. He always hated it when he got gifts of clothing on his birthdays instead of toys. He would tear open the boxes, gaze at the garments for an instant, and then go on to the next hopefully.
    "Why is sixteen so important?" he demanded.
    I brushed back my hair so it fell over my shoulders and sat at the foot of the bed.
    "Because when a girl gets to be sixteen, people are supposed to treat her differently," I explained.
    "How?" Jefferson was always full of questions, driving everyone crazy with his "Whys" and "Hows" and "Whats."
    "They just do. They treat you more like an adult and not a child, or a baby like you."
    "I'm not a baby," he protested. "I'm nine."
    "You act like one, sneaking in on me every morning and screaming. Now go on, get dressed for breakfast," I said and stood up. "I've got to take a shower and pick out something to wear."
    "When's Aunt Trisha coming?" he asked, instead of leaving. He would ask a thousand questions first. "This afternoon, early."
    "And Gavin?"
    "About three or four o'clock. All right, Jefferson? Can I get dressed now?"
    "Get dressed," he said shrugging.
    "I don't get dressed in front of boys," I said. He twisted his mouth from one side to the other as if he were chewing on this thought.
    "Why not?" he finally asked.
    "Jefferson! You should know enough by now not to ask such a question."
    "I get dressed in front of Mommy and Mrs. Boston," he said.
    "That's because you're still a child. Now out!" I said pointing to the door again. Slowly, he slipped off the bed, but he paused, still considering what I had said.
    "Richard and Melanie get dressed and undressed in front of each other," he said. "And they're twelve."
    "How do you know they do?" I asked. What went on at Uncle Philip's and Aunt Bet's always interested me. They still lived in the old section of the hotel, Uncle Philip and Aunt Bet now sleeping where Grandmother Laura and Randolph once slept. The twins had their own rooms now, but up until this year they had shared a room. I didn't go up there much, but whenever I did, I would pause by the locked door to what had once been Grandmother Cutler's suite. I had never even had the opportunity to glance inside.
    "I saw them," Jefferson said.
    "You saw Melanie getting dressed?"
    "Uh huh. I was in Richard's room and she came in to get a pair of his blue socks," he explained. "They share socks?" I asked incredulously.
    "Uh huh," Jefferson said, nodding. "And she was only in her underwear with nothing over here," he said, indicating his bosom. My mouth dropped open. Melanie had begun to develop breasts.
    "That's terrible," I said. Jefferson shrugged.
    "We were getting ready to play badminton."
    "I don't care. A girl that age shouldn't be parading around half-naked in front of her brother and cousin."
    Jefferson shrugged again and then had a new thought.
    "If you get any toys, can I play with them tonight? Can I?"
    "Jefferson, I told you. I don't expect to get toys."
    "If you do," he insisted.
    "Yes, you can. If you get out of here right now," I added.
    "Great," he cried and charged to the door just as Mommy knocked and opened it. He nearly ran into her.
    "What's going on?" she asked.
    "Jefferson was just leaving so I could get dressed," I said, fixing my eyes on him furiously.
    "Go on, Jefferson. Leave your sister alone. She has a lot to do today," Mommy advised.
    "She said I could play with her toys tonight," he declared.
    "Toys?"
    "He