“The babysitter will be here soon,” called Billy’s mother from the other room. Billy, fifteen years old and frustrated, scowled from the other room. Although the babysitter was ostensibly for his six-month-old sister, Katey, he knew he’d be told to mind her as well. He couldn’t leave, and he had to do what she said. In another year, he could be a babysitter too, if he were a girl. It was aggravating.
The doorbell rang as Billy’s mother was putting on her sweater. Billy positioned himself in the kitchen to get a good