Very few times in my life had I ever been unable to think of something to say. This was one of them. But Zane, the shy one, used this moment to find his courage. It was like he‟d been to Oz and back in half a second. “These are not moths, they are butterflies,” he said, shockingly calm. “If you don‟t want one, that‟s fine. But you can‟t stand here and laugh at us.” I could‟ve sworn I felt my jaw touch the pavement. The sixth graders laughed even louder, but they didn‟t say anything else to us. They just walked away. Later, when I asked Zane why he wasn‟t scared to talk to the sixth graders, all he said was, “That‟s what the boyfriend‟s supposed to do.” I didn‟t know that Zane was my boyfriend until that day. But I guessed it was okay as long as I didn‟t have to kiss him or anything. Not even the cootie shot could protect me from lip cooties. Zane and I went home after that. We hadn‟t sold a single butterfly/moth, and we never tried to again. But what I learned that day was something I never forgot. Being a grownup was not about having a business, or an assistant, or a trillion dollars. Being a grownup was being brave, like Zane was. It was standing up to the sixth graders and telling them to back off, without calling them “stupid heads” like I would have. It was letting Zane be the car piece in monopoly, and giving him back his fifty cents from the tooth fairy even though he said I could keep it. Even though I still had a long way to go, it was the first step I took towards becoming a grownup.
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