The other me? The one that exists in the real world? That’s the fake me. Golden waffles drenched in maple syrup fill my dreams. They’re on a plate, being held out to me by someone. I tuck my long, thick hair behind my ears and look up into Kevin’s smiling face. He has nice teeth. Really nice, like he still flosses even though the world’s gone all wrong. My dad would like his teeth. I lean toward him, but there’s something in his eyes that sets off alarm bells. It is the way he watches me, like a boy watching a girl. He reaches out and twines his fingers through my hair. And then it hits me. My hair is too long. I have forgotten to be a boy. And now he knows. I gasp and sit up, struggling to pull the sleeping bag from my face. “You all right?” a deep voice asks. I get the sleeping bag down and am face-to-face with Kevin. He’s sitting on the coffee table beside a burning kerosene lamp and leaning toward me. I run my fingers over my buzzed hair and sag with relief. My hair isn’t long and beautiful.
