Rate this story At home, Martin preened himself in front of the bathroom mirror, smiling at his reflection, liking what he saw. This was no child smiling back at him – it was a teenager, an adolescent, even, like the lady who had come to the school to talk about drugs had said, a young adult. His sideburns were coming along nicely and he was certain that he could detect a nascent growth of hair on his upper lip – perhaps he should shave just to be certain. He raised his arms and turned, admiring the new, sparse growth...
