“Okay, let’s use Photoshop to look at each image and clean up any of them that need it, rename them, and save them to disk. I’ll resize them to wallet size and save them again with a new name. Then we’ll decide which ones you and I want to print.”

It took about a half hour to clean up and crop the eight images and save them in Photoshop psd format. I maximized each picture on the screen so we could look at them and decide which ones we each wanted.

We looked at the four pictures of Carson that I took.

“Which ones of me do you like best, David?” he asked me.

“Well, I have to say that I like all four of them. I especially like the one where you’re waving at me. I want to save all four. How about you? Which do you like?”

“I never like pictures of me. I think that it’s way weird when I see myself in a picture. So I’ll have to go along with you having chosen all four of them. Besides, you know we’ll have to retake my pictures when my cast comes off.”

“It’s very funny that I didn’t even think about that,” I said. “You’re right. In my opinion it’s not a big deal.”

“We could wait until….”

I interrupted Carson. “We are not going to wait. We need pictures of you now, and later on we’ll need pictures of you without your cast.”

Carson grinned. “Okay. Sounds like a plan!”

“Okay, now how about the ones you took of me. You get first pick.”

“David, you’re good looking. All four of your pix are great, if I do say so for myself since I took them. The composition is perfect, the exposure is spot on, the focus is perfect, what’s not to like?” He grinned like the Cheshire Cat from the movie ‘Alice in Wonderland’.

“Wow! You did such a great job using the zoom, and the lines in the viewfinder that let you make sure the image is straight, and the auto focus, and the auto exposure. You’re a magician!”

“Hey! Don’t knock my magic finger that I used to press the button to take the pictures.” Carson wiggled his index finger. “And I had to press it four different times! Well, which ones do you like?”

“Let’s go with all four. That way you won’t have to grill me about why I didn’t chose all of them. Right?”

“Right! Man, David, you’re getting smarter and smarter.”

“And, Carson, you’re getting smart-asser and smart-asser!”

We busted up laughing. We were both right, all of the pictures we took looked great. Even the one where I was sticking my tongue out at Carson.

“Okay, now that we’ve picked all eight pix, let’s figure out how to print them.” I pulled out my ruler. It has inches and millimeters and is clear plastic so you can see exactly what you’re measuring. To figure out how to print them, I measured my student body card from school. It was almost exactly 55 by 85 millimeters, about 2-1/8 by 3-3/8 inches.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm what, David?”

“The photo paper I have is four by six inches, that’s roughly 102 by 152 millimeters. Using the 55 by 85 millimeter print size, the best we can do is print three per page and we’ll have to cut them out individually. What if we reduce the size of each picture a bit, to 2 by 3 inches each. That way we can get four on a page and use Dad’s paper cutter. We can make two cuts, one the long way and one the short way and it will be easier and neater to do than using scissors.”

“How much smaller are they going to be?”

I turned to my computer and calculated the size difference.

“It’s about a third of an inch smaller the tall way, and less than half that the across way. Making it smaller that way means they’ll fit in our wallets easier and the edges won’t get messed up as easily. What do you think?”

“It’s fine with me. I guess that photo paper is expensive, right?”

“Yeah, it is, but we don’t use it that often so it’s not a problem. Dad got this pack for me, and I’ve been careful using it. Let me resize the individual images so they’ll fit and save that file. Then I’ll make a new blank image that’s four by six inches. I’ll paste the four images I took of you, one in each corner so they fit perfectly and all line up. Let me do it with your images first, and I’ll show you what it looks like.”

It took me about ten minutes to resize and save each of the four images I took of Carson, then to copy them into a new four by six image and save that.

“What do you think?”

“Yeah, I like it. It’s perfect. I like that there are no blank spaces between the images. Can you print six of these for me?”

“Six? Uh… that’s a lot. What are you going to do with them?”

“When we’re finished cutting them out I’ll have twenty-four pictures of me. I’ll write my name with my new address, phone number, and email address on the back of each one, so they all have my new contact information. I’ll give one to you, and the other to my friends at school and at Hathaway House. They’ll be like business cards but with my picture.”

“That’s cool! Say, I have an idea. Why don’t we print up a couple extras? That way you’ll have some pix to give to our folks and sibs and other relatives like Uncle Phil.”

“David, I like that idea. But I have an even better idea. Let’s get Mom or Dad to take our picture together, then we can print them and write our names on the back to give to the family. What do you think?”

“That is a better idea. Let’s print six of yours and… let’s see… two of mine?” I asked.

“Okay.”

I sat there looking at the screen. “I just had another idea. Why don’t we print your name and stuff on the back of each pic? That way you won’t have to write it on each one.”

“I like it. But I don’t know what phone number I should use. Like, should I use your folks’ phone number? And what if I get a cellphone, I’d have to have you print a new set.”

“Let’s see if we can get Dad to buy you a cellphone today. He can just add you to the family plan he has for us kids. Wait a minute…. Ya know, I think he got an extra phone when he signed us up. I remember that they had some sort of special and he got five cellphones. That means he probably has one for you, complete with a new number.”

“What kind of cellphone is it? An iPhone?”

“An Android smartphone. Here, let me show you mine.”

I pulled out my phone, turned it on and entered my password, and handed it to Carson.

“Cool. It looks sort of like an iPhone.” He turned it around and looked at the back, then at the side. “It seems a lot thinner.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s got two cameras so you can take pix with one and use the other for video calls so people can see you talking to them. You can change the battery yourself, if you have a backup. I have a backup battery that came with a charger. We can get one of those for you. And there are tons of apps. I have a lot, maybe too many, and they were almost all free.”

“Sweet. I like how thin it is. And the screen is so clear!”

“Let me show you something.” I took the phone and started the movie Avatar.

“Okay, check this out.”

The movie started up in wide screen high def, complete with sound.

“Whoa! This is Avatar! Man, David, this is so clear. Where did you get this? Is it the whole movie or just a trailer?”

“It’s the complete movie, and it came free with the phone.”

“No way.”

“Way! And you’ll have it on your phone too. You already have a cellphone, right?”

“Yeah. It’ll go back to Hathaway House. As soon as I have my own I’ll clear my address book and texts — I can do that in the settings with one click — then take it back and give it to Mr. Hagen.”

“You should back up your address book before you clear it. Our phone’s got a feature where you copy your address book to the internet, then copy it down to your new phone. I don’t know how to do it, but I’m sure Dad does. What kind of phone do you have?”

“It’s not a smartphone, just a plain flip kind of cellphone. For sure a lot cheaper than a smartphone, but no apps, no internet, no email, no camera, just a phone. Oh, it does have IM — that’s the same as texts.”

“Well, with a smartphone you’ll have unlimited internet and data and texts. And video calls if the other person has that feature on their phone. Il fait très frais!”

Carson grinned. “Ooo… you’re so sexy when you speak French. What does that mean?”

“It is very cool!” We both laughed. “And that’s about the limit of my French!” I added.

“Okay, enough joking around. We’ll ask Dad about a cellphone for you later when we ask him to take our pic together. Right now let’s print these pix of you.”

Printing borderless color printouts in high resolution on photo paper takes a long time. It had been a long time since I’d printed any, so I had to make sure I had the paper lined up right so they wouldn’t be printed on the back side or overlapping the half inch perforated edge at one end. So printing the six pages of Carson’s pictures and two pages of mine took over twenty minutes. We had to lay each print on my bed for the ink to dry completely. That was the only place in my room that had enough space for all of them so they wouldn’t overlap.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go downstairs to Dad’s office and use his paper cutter on my prints. We’ll do yours later after we print your name and address and stuff on the back of them.”

We walked downstairs and I saw Mom and Dad in the living room.

“Dad, can we use your paper cutter to cut some prints we just made?”

“Sure, David. Just be careful and hold them down when you slide the blade holder across so they don’t move and spoil your cut. If you have any problems, call me and I’ll come in and help you.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

I folded and tore off the perforated edge then carefully lined up each of the prints and, holding them down tightly, I cut each of the two pix into four individual pix of me. They looked great.

“Let’s see how they fit in my wallet.” I slipped one of the 2 by 3 inch pictures into one of the empty clear plastic holders in my wallet.

“Hey, David, that looks great. Now, if it was me in that picture it would look absolutely fantastic!”

“Oh, I can see you are going to be trouble, aren’t you!”

“Yup. What was it that Mom said, something about sibling rivalry?”

“Mom never said anything about sibling rivalry. Anyway, twins aren’t supposed to have sibling rivalry.”

“But we’re not twins.”

“We’re close enough to being twins that it should count. Same age, same birthday, same height and probably same weight, same hair and eye color. See? Twins. So no sibling rivalry.”

“I really don’t think that stuff counts, David. And besides, if we were twins you’d have a broken arm too.”

“Like, not! One twin can have a broken arm without the other twin having a broken one too. And the other stuff does count.”

“How come?”

“Because I say it counts.” I grinned and started tickling him.

“Oh, stop, stop! My arm hurts!”

“What a wimp!”

“Hey, if I’m a wimp and we’re twins, then you’re a wimp too!”

“Okay, okay, then neither of us is a wimp. You don’t look like a wimp anyway.”

Carson grinned. “Thanks. Neither do you, twin brother.”

It wasn’t true, but I liked the way it sounded. “Now let’s ask Dad to take a pic of us together.”

We all trooped out into the backyard, and Carson and I stood in front of the garage wall. Carson stood on my right and he held his cast behind my back, so I put my arm around his shoulders. Dad said “Say cheese,” and he took a couple of pix using my camera. Then we sort of played around posing different ways and he took other pix without telling us to say cheese.

“Okay, guys, I think that I’ve taken more than enough.”

On our way into the house I asked, “Dad, do you still have that extra cellphone you got when we went on the family plan?”

“Yes. Oh, I see…. Yes, Carson can have it. I’ll get it out for you. I’m sure the battery needs to be plugged in to get a full charge before you use it. The SIM card is in the box, and I think the phone number is somewhere in the box as well.”

Carson got the box from Dad and smiled. “Thanks, Dad,” then he opened the box. “There’s the phone number, and the SIM card. We’ll charge it overnight. Since we have the phone number can we print the back of my pictures?”

“Sure. We can go up and do it now. But weren’t we going to have a snack? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, me too,” Carson replied.

We walked into the kitchen and I rummaged around in the refrigerator.

“We have apples and oranges, and not much else for a snack in here.” I turned back to where Carson was sitting at the kitchen table. “I could make us a sandwich. Or we could just have some chips. With salsa, if you want.”

Carson looked at his watch. “We’re going to eat dinner in a little while. How ‘bout we just have some chips and something to drink.”

“That sounds good. What do you want to drink?”

“Coke, please.”

I grabbed a can of Coke for Carson and a can of ginger ale for me, and a bag of corn chips. We went upstairs.

“David, I have some homework I need to get done for Monday.”

“What is it?”

“Algebra 2.”

“What book do you use?”

“Larson.”

“You mean the 400 pound book, right?”

“Yeah. I hate it. I weighed it and that sucker weighs almost six pounds. And the stupid workbook weighs another pound. I wish we could have all of our books on a Kindle or Nook. Carrying these super heavyweight books around is a real pain in the back.”

“A Nook would be cool. I like the color screen. What page are your problems on?”

“They’re in the workbook, problems two through ten on page 62. Do you have Algebra 2 homework, David?”

“Yeah. The problems on page 58. I guess we’re a little behind compared to where you are.”

“Let’s look at page 58. Maybe I can help you and you can help me.”

We reviewed the problems on page 58 that Carson had already completed and I had to turn in on Monday, and the ones on page 62 Carson had to solve and also turn in on Monday.

“David, why don’t you look at the example on page 61 and see if you can do problem number one on 62. Then we can work on those problems together, and I’ll walk you through the ones on page 58 that I already solved.”

So that’s what we did. I was able to figure out the problems on page 62 and solved the first one, so we began working on the next eight problems. It was so cool working together this way. I think it helped both of us. I learned a few things that were ahead of my class, and Carson was able to understand some problems that had confused him. I finished our problems then checked each other’s work and made sure everything was right.

I had some reading to do for my Chemistry class, and Carson needed to study for a quiz in his Biology class, so we took out those — also huge — books and began reading. I like to lie on my bed on my stomach to read. Because of his arm, Carson needed to sit in a chair with his book on a desk to read.

I heard a knock on my bedroom door, which was already open, and I looked up. Dad stood there, looking in at me and Carson doing our homework.

“Can I come in, guys?”

“Sure, Dad.” I was very curious to find out what he wanted. He stepped into the room, but not very far. What was this about?

“Your mom and I have had a little talk, and we decided that I should have a little talk with the two of you.”

‘Oh, no! Oh, no, oh, no!’ I thought. ‘Not that little talk! No, please, no. Not with Carson. He’s going to be so embarrassed. And so will I.’

Dad turned and closed the door.

‘Oh, shit! It was going to be that little talk. Oh, poor Carson. Oh, poor me!’

“Uh, what talk are you talking about? Carson’s allowance? Oh, and he needs an extra battery and charger for his cellphone. And you know, we’re going to have to go to Hathaway House and get the rest of Carson’s clothes.” Maybe I could string things out and he’d get tired and give it up or maybe he’d forget. He sat down on the end of my bed. Shit. No stringing it out.

“Guys, you’re sleeping with each other until Carson can move into Alan’s bedroom and make it his own. Knowing how randy fifteen year old boys can be, I decided it’s time I talk to both of you, together, about safe sex practices.

There was an audible gasp from Carson. I turned and looked at him. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying ‘His eyes were as big as saucers,’ right? Well, that describes Carson perfectly. I couldn’t see or hear him breathing. I thought he might pass out and collapse on the floor, then we’d have to call the paramedics. I looked at him and put my hand on his shoulder.

“Carson, you okay?”

He looked at me, then at Dad. “I’m okay. I guess.”

Dad continued just like nothing had interrupted him. “Carson and David, I know it’s probably very difficult for you to realize it, but I was a fifteen year old boy at one time. Just like you two. With the same drives and urges as you two.”

I decided one last try to slow him down. “Dad, you know we had sex education in Health last year. We know all about this, and what we shouldn’t do and how to be safe.”

“Are you two having sex?”

Shit! He was plowing ahead and not paying any attention to me at all. In fact, he was enjoying making me squirm. I could see a little bit of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“DAD! That’s embarrassing! And personal! You can’t ask us that!”

“I can, and I did. And I expect an answer from each of you.

“First, as far as your mother and I are concerned, it’s okay if you have sex with each other. What I’m trying to do is set the stage for what I’m going to discuss with you. And I say ‘discuss with you’ because that’s exactly what I want us to do for the next half hour or so. We will be having a discussion, I’ll be talking with you and you’ll be talking with me. That’s what a discussion is, and that means you’re going to do about half the talking. Also, I’m going to have to ask you questions, rather pointed and perhaps embarrassing questions, and you’re going to answer them. Do you understand?”

I looked at Carson. We nodded our heads. I didn’t know about Carson, but I was sure going to keep most of my thoughts and opinions private. Or I’d try to. Trouble was, Dad had always been able to squeeze whatever he wanted to know out of all four of us kids. I only hoped that because Carson was new to our family he’d be immune. I decided to take the initiative, as my Communication Studies teacher likes to tell us we need to do.

“Okay. No. We’re not having sex. All we’ve done is kiss. The reason we kissed is because Carson needed a hug and because of his broken arm I couldn’t hug him so I kissed him instead. Then we started joking around and he kissed me back. And we did it two different times.” I looked at Carson and smiled. “And I liked kissing him, I liked it a whole lot.” I didn’t tell Dad that one of those times was when we were walking down the street today. That would have extended ‘the talk’ even longer.

Dad looked at Carson. “You’ve been very quiet, Carson. I’d like you to tell me if you’ve touched each other. And I do mean down there, in your crotch.”

“Dad, when you said ‘pointed questions’ you sure meant it. No beating around the bush. So the answer is no. We have not reached down and touched each other’s crotch.” Carson grinned, and it was sort of a nasty kind of grin. “David said we shouldn’t do anything until my cast is off and my arm is healed. That’s going to be in about six weeks from now.”

Oh, my, god! Carson passed the ball to me, no pun intended, and I didn’t know what to say. Maybe saying nothing would be best. So I sat there waiting for Dad’s next question.

“So, Carson, have you had sex with anyone else before? That includes with someone at Hathaway House, or at your high school, or when you were in intermediate school.” Hah! So Carson’s attempt to pass Dad’s attention off to me was intercepted by Dad and he flung it right back at Carson. Serves him right.

“No, Dad, I haven’t.”

“David, how about you? I don’t want Carson holding the bag and have you get off without having to answer the same question.”

“Nope. No one.”

“Alright. David, are you gay?”

“I’m not going to answer that question yet. I’d like Carson to give you his answer to that question because he has a great explanation. I totally agree with what he’s going to tell you.”

I turned to Carson. “Go ahead, tell Dad what you told me when we were walking back from Hathaway House today.”

“Well, it goes like this. I’m just a regular guy. I’m normal, the same as anyone else. I am what I am, and I don’t stick on a label saying what I am. I’ve had labels stuck on me all my life including ‘orphan’ and ‘foster child.’ I hate labels. So I don’t put a label on myself and I don’t want others to put a label on me. I’m just me, Carson Ryan Evans, soon to be Carson Ryan Dempsey, a fifteen year old teen and high school sophomore. Those are facts, not labels. Saying I’m gay, or straight, or bi doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s just another stupid label some people try to stick on other people. If someone does that to me, that’s their problem and not mine. It’s no different than if I had red hair or blond hair or was left-handed or had freckles.”

“Ditto that for me, too, Dad.”

Dad sat back and just looked at us, and didn’t say a word.