The Trials of Dylan

A n g e r

DYLAN HATED NATHAN.
Every time he saw the boy's handsome face an icy fist clenched round his heart. Everything about the other boy blew frosty and Arctic. His smile— his laughter —and his everything mocked Dylan. Not that there was really anything the matter with Nathan. He was about the sweetest kid brother someone could have.

But right now, it was, "Dylan, I didn't know you had a twin brother!" even though he was a sophomore and Nathan a measly freshman. And Nathan had skipped a year! But pretty soon it'd be, "Dylan, you must be so proud to have such a big brother."

And it didn't help that their dad was such a big sport freak. 'Making the team was all he ever talked about. He'd even built a small workout room in the cellar for his boys and their friends.

And from that foolish notion— no more threatening than a snowflake— a monumental and inexorable glacier grew. Until Dylan's only thought was how to get a leg up on his little brother.

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"NATHAN FIRST," DYLAN said about two weeks later.

His brother hopped up on the scale.

"Let's see." Their father smiled and thumbed the counterweight, then leveled the ruler. "You are Five-six and one hundred-thirty pounds."

Nathan hopped off and piped, "Next!"

When the bar settled this time their father announced, "Why Dylan, you seem to have pulled ahead of your little brother. You're half of an inch taller and four pounds heavier."

Dylan grinned. He could tell that Nathan didn't care for them apples at all.

                               ⁂

OVER THE REST of that month Dylan seemed to sprout up like a summer weed in a vacant lot. Not so much upward at first— but more like out. From the waist down he went from wiry to hefty.

But above the waist it seemed he was back peddling. His shoulders remained scrawny, and his chest refused to budge an iota.

                               ⁂
ONCE MONTH LATER Dylan marched himself back into Dr. Yossarian's disheveled office.

"How are you doing, Dylan?"

"Terrific!"

And he was. Everything was going exactly to plan. He was growing fast and furious, leaving Nathan in the dust.

"Great. Now, scoot your hinny up onto the edge of the table so I can check out a few things."

"Sure thing, Doc."

Dylan waited tolerantly as the peculiar physician took his pulse and blood pressure. Then the man stared running his cold stethoscope over the boy's back, thumping him with two stiff fingers.

"Ouch!" Dylan hooted when the doctor whacked his chest.

"That hurt?"

"Yeah. My nipples, they're kind of sore. Is that bad?"

"Not to worry. It means everything is working simply fine. Expect them to be a bit swollen and sore for a while, but it'll pass. In no time flat they'll look and feel perfectly natural."

"Well, if you say so."

Dr. Yossarian crossed his arms across his chest, his jacket sleeves hitching up to show shaggy arms. "How do you feel about yourself?"

"All the guys have started to notice. I like the way they treat me now— with respect. Everyone says I look fantastic."

The physician nodded. "All well and good. But, how do you feel about yourself?"

Dylan thought carefully about how he should answer. He certainly didn't want to blow his golden chance. "I like the way I look—and the way that makes me feel. At last, I'm starting to feel like the real me—like I'm finally coming into my own."

"That's a very grownup attitude."

"So, do I get more pills?"

"Nope not this time— something much better."

The doctor went to his counter, opened a drawer and placed what was inside on the countertop. "This widget right here. It's an insertion gun. What is does is shoot these tiny pegs just beneath your skin." He paused as he loaded four of the white slivers into it.

"It won't hurt, will it?" Dylan asked, ready to bolt the door.

"Nah. They go beneath the fleshy upper part of your arm. No one will know they're there except you." Satisfied, he returned to Dylan's side.

"What do they do?"

"They dissolve slowly, working twenty-four hours a day to pump just the right amount of hormone into your blood so it reaches your every nook and cranny. Exactly the way Nature works."

"Seems like a lot of bother every month."

"Would be, but these little honeys will last a young man like you for nine months before they're gone and need changing."

"Neat."

"Now, one final time. You know the changes you are going through are permanent— all part of growing up. What's done is done. Now, in your heart of hearts is this what you really want?"

"Dr. Yossarian," Dylan said all serious and grownup. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."